Two Months Later
“I'm trying to decide if I like the front or the back more.” Willa was resting on her elbow, in Layke's bed, admiring the view – that being the pert, round buttocks of her lover. The early morning sun poured in from the window, acting like a spotlight on the two naked women in the room.
Layke giggled as she buttoned up her shirt, sweeping her hair to the side and out of the way. When getting dressed it never occurred to her to put on panties first, not when Willa was staying over. She'd tried it once – they only ended up on the floor a couple of minutes later. There was just something about mornings, particularly those when she needed to go to work, that made her girlfriend insatiable.
“On the one hand,” Willa continued, “the back certainly does make a good case for itself. But on the other, well, you know how much I adore the front.”
Layke tossed her a look over her shoulder. “Yes, so much you named it.”
Willa gave a dirty laugh. “Something that delicious, that wonderful, should have a name.”
“I think you get dirtier with every passing day.”
“That's probably because I fall in love with you a little bit more with every passing day.”
Layke never grew tired of hearing that. She'd heard it for seven years from Dustin, so much so that it had lost its meaning long ago. But from Willa's mouth the words had taken on new connotations. It was as though they'd been fashioned just for them, just for their love. If she woke up beside Willa, she started every day with a smile that never left her face.
“How is it possible that you're both the crudest and sweetest person I know?” Layke said, chuckling. She turned to face Willa, still naked from the waist down.
Willa sat up with a Cheshire-cat grin that almost reached the ends of her face. “Hey, what did I tell you about calling me sweet? Don't you know what that does to my street cred?” Before Layke could escape, Willa grabbed her and wrestled her to the bed.
“Get off me! Stop it.” Layke giggled hysterically, not putting up much of a fight at all. She didn't want Willa to stop or get off, and they both knew it, but keeping up the pretense was part of the game.
“I'll show you how sweet I am,” Willa said, laying rough kisses on Layke's neck while pinning her down.
“I'm going to be late for work,” came Layke's giggly, now slightly gasping pleas, as she watched her girlfriend descend.
“Too bad.” No one and nothing could have made Willa feel bad about what she intended to do, not even Layke's admonishments about being made late for work. This was how one started the day right: devouring the woman you loved while her moans filled the room, and her body writhed and twisted beneath you. As she spread Layke's legs and bore her mouth down on the already moist cavern, she was captured by a feeling of rapture, of ecstasy, as if there was nowhere greater in the world than here, and no one better than the woman beneath her.
“Oh yes, yes,” Layke whined, her eyes fluttering closed, the back of her head grinding into the pillow, as Willa worked her magical tongue; flicking, stabbing, circling and finally sucking on her bean to send her into a euphoric frenzy.
Willa sought out one hand and clasped it in hers, their fingers slotting together and interlocking. She flexed the fingers on her other hand, preparing them for their next task. Her tongue went a little easier on Layke's stiff nub, knowing that what she had planned next would send her over the edge immediately if she didn't. She painted strips with her wet muscle, lightly touching the bean, giving just a little before taking it away again.
When Layke felt the fingers slide inside her, her body jerked, startled by the suddenness and the coldness of the two fingers. It didn't take them long to warm up, however. Her own juices moistened and warmed them on their rapid entrance and exit of her sex. She didn't last much longer after that, and expired noisily, powerfully, Willa's lips still wrapped around her bean as the spasms came and went.
Willa laughed and let the vibration hit Layke's sex, which sent more spasms Layke's way. She was far too sensitive down there now, Willa knew it. Still, she loved knowing that her tongue and fingers – such small, yet extremely powerful tools – had almost incapacitated her lover, and would probably make her late for work, again. This was like Willa's screw you to the police. She smiled victoriously.
“That was mean,” Layke sulked, glaring at Willa who now lay on top of her. “And you're not sorry, are you? Sorry for making me late for work?”
Willa grinned, pressed a tender kiss to her lips, eradicating Layke's scowl. “Nope, I have no remorse. My conscience is clear.”
“I'm going to stop inviting you over on work nights.”
“You wouldn't last three days.” Willa laughed then kissed her again. “You know, you could always ditch your job and come work for me. It would make a nice change to have some eye candy on the team.”
Layke raised both eyebrows. “Okay, it's official, you've completely lost your mind. You're obviously delirious, asking a cop to ditch a steady job, with healthcare benefits, and work for you running an illegal gun trading business.” Layke giggled to herself, finally pushing Willa off her, though gently, and climbing out of bed. She fished out a pair of panties from her drawer. All the while Willa watched her silently, pensively. “I'm crazy about you, Willa, but I'm not crazy.” She tugged on her jeans.
“Maybe that's not the direction I want to go in anymore.”
Layke looked at her suddenly. “What do you mean?”
Although she had never outright confirmed her involvement in the illegal gun trade to Layke, a sort of unspoken confirmation existed. Skepticism ran generations deep in the di Blasio family, and thus Willa was always careful with what she said. It wasn't about trust, it was about being smart.
“My father set things up that I'm not proud of, and when I took the reins, I was too much of a coward, and too wet behind the ears, not to depart from that.”
Layke sat on the edge of the bed beside her. She was already going to be late, what difference would another five minutes make? This was important.
“I know what the business was built on,” Willa continued, “and it wasn't the blood, sweat and tears of hard-working, law-abiding men. But it doesn't have to be that way forever.”
“Be the change you wish to see. I think Gandhi said that,” Layke said, taking Willa's hand in hers. “Would you really do that? Could you do it?”
Willa forced a laugh. “I'm the queen of Miami, I can do anything I want.” Though her lips were smiling, her eyes were not. They were as unsure as the rest of her. Getting out of the gun trade, the business her father had made his initial living and the bulk of his money from in the early days, was a risky proposal, a move so bold it gave her goosebumps and chills just thinking about it. But there was Layke, her beautiful lover, her girlfriend, the woman who had opened her heart to her, had made her want to be better, to be good. She had always known that if they stood even the smallest chance of going the distance, something would eventually have to give. This seemed like the only option. And hell, she had never liked the gun trade.
Layke leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “I'm proud of you, baby,” she whispered. That was all Willa needed to hear to do what she had to do. Breaking the law wasn't nearly as appealing as it had looked growing up.
“Will I see you tonight?”
Layke smiled, letting her lips brush against Willa's. “I don't know. Do you want to see me tonight?”
“I want to see you every night. And day. And afternoon,” Willa said between kisses.
“You know what would make my day? If I came back this evening and you were lying in exactly the same spot, naked, waiting for me.”
Willa laughed a smoky laugh. “I bet it would. As much as I like the sound of that, I've got a few things to take care of today. I'll swing by when I'm done.”
Parting often caused a pang in their hearts, the type that only ceased once they were reunited. The feeling was especially gruesome for Willa, knowing that the world she had to return to had lost its appeal. She collapsed back on the bed and lay with her arms sprawled out, enjoying her final moments of elation before she had to get dressed, leave, and resume her real life.
Velazquez fished out a ten-dollar bill from her inside pocket and paid the street vendor while Layke picked up their kebabs, stuffed with onions and mustard and all sorts of other unhealthy goodness. The sun was relentless in its shining, and had only grown more powerful since the morning.
“Is it crazy that we're buying hotdogs on a day like this?” Layke asked as they found an empty bench outside a park, a huge tree providing the much needed shade. “Shouldn't we be eating, like, I don't know, ice cream or something?”
“What's crazy about eating food at lunchtime? Hunger doesn't care how hot it is outside,” Velazquez said before taking a gargantuan bite of her hotdog.
Layke laughed. This woman made any and every excuse under the sun to justify her large appetite. Looking at her svelte figure, everything so perfectly toned, Layke secretly envied her for her fast metabolism. She didn't have to work out to keep in shape, not the way normal women did. And she ate like a horse and got away with it.
Layke ate in silence and watched the passers-by shuffle past. Usually she despised the sun; with red hair and pale skin, it was her worst enemy. She couldn't tan, only burn, and that was with layers of sunblock on. But not today. Today she had much to be grateful for. Her girlfriend would soon be on the straight and narrow, doing what no one thought possible: cleansing the di Blasio name.
Velazquez turned to her after a moment. “You've had that same creepy little smile on your face for weeks. What's got you looking like that?”
Layke gave her a wide-eyed look, taken aback, though amused. “What's so creepy about my smile?” Not only hadn't she noticed she was smiling, it had never occurred to her that it could have been construed as creepy.
“Well, you just sit there smiling to yourself, like someone's whispering something dirty to you that no one else can hear. Creepy.”
Layke shoulder-shoved her a little. “You're just jealous because you haven't had anything to smile about in months.”
“That's because I haven't gotten any in months!” Velazquez made a face. “Usually when people smile like that they're getting freaky nonstop. So Mr Advertising's putting in over time, huh?” Her eyebrow wiggled suggestively.
Layke looked down, started fiddling with a piece of onion sticking out of her hotdog. “Actually, Dustin and I broke up.” This was the first person at the office she'd shared this with, besides her father. Announcing a break up was a stressful affair, one she had hoped to avoid as long as possible. Particularly when it came to breaking off an engagement, and a seven-year-long relationship, with a man who, on paper, was a catch. Too many questions would be asked.
Velazquez gawped at her. “When did this happen?”
Layke shrugged, attempting to play it down. “I don't know, a couple of months ago maybe.”
“And you didn't think to tell me sooner?” Velazquez shook her head, pretending to be aggrieved. “I thought we were friends.”
“I haven't told anyone, just my parents.”
“So that's why you haven't been wearing your engagement ring.”
“Even when we were together I didn't wear it often.” Now that she no longer possessed it, having returned it to Dustin, who reluctantly accepted it back, she couldn't help but miss it. After all, diamonds were a girl's best friend, even if they came from a man she wasn't in love with. It truly was a lovely ring, but she didn't deserve it. “What the hell am I going to do with this now, Layke?” Dustin had asked when she placed it in his hand as he was leaving with his things. “I can't exactly give it to another woman, can I?” No, he couldn't, but she couldn't keep it.
“You've already moved on? Dios mio, Layke, you didn't waste any time.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Uh, creepy smile, remember? Someone's definitely hitting that.”
Layke chortled. “What is it with people being crude today?” Between Willa, Corman and now Velazquez, she was beginning to think the concept of decency had gone the way of the dodo.
“So, who is he? Does he at least have a name I won't forget?”
Willa di Blasio wasn't a name any of her colleagues would ever forget, she imagined. The thought amused her almost as much as it depressed her.
“It's early days, I don't want to jinx it.”
“Maldita puta!” Velazquez mumbled.
“You do remember I understand a bit of Spanish, don't you?” Layke laughed.
“I remember.”
Somehow being insulted in Spanish just didn't have the same effect that the English words did; though her inability to be offended by her friend's words came more from the fact that she meant them in jest. Layke suspected, however, that had Velazquez known the truth about who she was really sharing her bed with, the person who was causing her to smile like an idiot every day, she would have a million more Spanish curses for her.
Her intention, when she'd stormed from the restaurant some months back, had been to never return. Not that she had anything against Armenian cuisine, it was just that this particular establishment belonged to a most unsavory character she had hoped never to deal with again. But a lot had happened since then; people had been killed, promising new partnerships thwarted. They'd all made the best they could of an awful situation.
Here she found herself again, surrounded by the antiquated furniture (which appeared to have been imported from a pre-1940s Armenia) and a strong, mouth-watering scent wafting out of the kitchen, into a seating area that, once again, had no paying customers. Willa's inference was that paying customers were a scarcity, if not non-existent. She knew this was no more a viable business than the rug shop where they stashed their guns.
“You know I hate being kept in the dark,” Trent said through clenched teeth, eyes little slits of hatred. They were sitting in the exact same spot, in the exact same formation – Trent, Willa and Guy – that they had before, and just as he had the first time, Bedrosian was keeping them waiting. So far five minutes had passed since their arrival, and still no sign of him. Lateness, as Willa well knew, was a power play. If she didn't already have a thousand reasons to see this through, Bedrosian's tardiness would have undoubtedly convinced her that she was doing the right thing. It just illustrated the power imbalance, one her father had spent decades building to work in their favor, against people like this. In just a short space of time the power had shifted to Yeznik Bedrosian.
“Since when do I have to run anything by you?”
“Since I set this whole thing up. And since he made it very clear he didn't want to deal with you again.”
Willa smiled to herself. “He won't have to worry about that much longer.”
Trent regarded her with the venom of a thousand vipers, though his efforts to try and unnerve her were proving futile. Her mind had been made up for five days, since her talk with Layke. She had never been more resolved to see something through than she was now. The nature of the impromptu sit down she'd requested with Bedrosian had been kept secret from her team; that she wasn't proud of, though it had been necessary. They could all hate her once the deed was done, but she couldn't risk any of them finding out beforehand and jeopardizing everything.
Guy watched her carefully. “I hope you know what you're doing, Willa.”
She looked at him, and in his eyes she could see that he already knew what she was about to do. He always knew, somehow. There was always one sibling that could look right through you and see what was in your heart without you breathing a word to them.
She didn't get to assure him of her certainty, because a slick, suited Bedrosian appeared from the backroom and strutted towards their table.
“Apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said, giving a little bow of his head before settling into the chair opposite them. His black eyes were playfully mischievous as they settled on Willa. “Miss di Blasio, always a pleasure.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she fired back. There was just something about the guy that got her back up, made her forget her manners and turn up her abrasiveness dial to its maximum setting.
He laughed easily. “Nothing has changed since our last meeting, I see. I thought we were friends now, since I have made you a lot of money.”
“I have enough friends, thanks, I don't need any more.” She offered him her falsest smile. “While we're on the subject of our business arrangement, I wanted to inform you that there will be some changes.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Oh?”
Willa nodded. “Yeah. You see, I'll be taking my business in a new direction from now on, a, how do you say, less illicit one.” Now her smile was real, though it wasn't out of friendliness, it was out of triumphant spite as she watched the smirk vanish from Bedrosian's face. “You understand what I'm saying?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Willa, what the hell is this?” Trent demanded, panic in his voice along with rage.
She ignored him, focused only ahead at their soon to be ex-business partner. “We're terminating our arrangement, getting out of the gun trade for good.”
“What?” Trent shot up from his seat. “This better be a joke, Willa–”
“Oh, sit down!” She waved a disinterested hand at her brother. “It was always Dad's plan to get out eventually. The cancer got to him first. But it was always his plan.”
“That's bullshit! He would never have signed off on something like this. The business wouldn't survive.”
“Well it's going to have to, because we're out. You might enjoy always looking over your shoulder, but I don't. I also don't want our family name to forever be synonymous with crime.”
“You stupid bitch!” Trent spat. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about, and you're going to destroy everything this family has built while you were off enjoying that dirty money you hate so much, the money that funded your fancy little degree.”
“I'm not having this conversation with you here,” she said levelly.
“Oh, please do, this is like watching my children squabbling over who gets to watch the television,” Bedrosian said. The playful note in his voice wasn't real, and acted as a mask for something sinister. They all heard it.
“Don't listen to her, Yeznik. She stands alone in this.” Trent turned back to Willa. “Do you really think anyone will support you if it means taking money out of their pockets and food off their plates?” He laughed maniacally.
“Well she has at least one supporter.”
Trent and Willa both turned in unison to look at Guy, always so calm and collected, happy to stay out of disputes, remain unbiased and objective. Willa smiled. She had never loved him more than she loved him then.
“Then you're just as pathetic as she is.”
“Enough.” Bedrosian raised his hand, instantly silencing the whole table. “You obviously have some things you need to talk about as a family, so why don't you take a couple of days to rethink, regroup, whatever it is you need to do, then come back with a new attitude.”
“We don't need a couple of days, and we don't need to rethink anything. It's over. I hope you find another supplier soon.” She got up to leave, and Guy got up with her. Then she added with a laugh, “Who am I kidding? I don't care either way.”
“You know it isn't as simple as that?” Bedrosian called after her.
“Actually it is,” she called right back, gave him one final smile before exiting the building.
Two knocks in quick succession, done three times – Layke knew Willa's distinct way of knocking on her door. “Like a heartbeat racing. Sort of what happens when I'm with you,” Willa had said about it when she'd made it. She used it every time, having put her days of breaking and entering behind her, now that she would always be welcome.
Layke had just stepped out of the shower when she heard the knocks. She expected to be greeted with a kiss before the hello – as they were now accustomed to doing – not to be pounced on and lifted off the floor by her ravenous lover.
“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling as Willa kicked the door shut and carried her into the bedroom. Her face was being plastered with kisses.
“I did it. It's over,” Willa declared, throwing her onto the bed, her loosely tied bathrobe flying open and revealing her naked body, droplets of water still clinging to it.
“Did what?”
Willa climbed on top of her fully clothed, and kissed her several times before she was able to elaborate. “I got out. No more guns.”
Layke blinked back at her, dumbfounded. Of course they'd spoken about it, but she never imagined it would happen so quickly. “For real?”
Willa nodded, her smile huge and white. “For real.”
“Oh my God.” She let out a little scream of joy. “Oh my God.” It deserved a kiss, and another, and another, which she planted on her lips each time. “You're amazing.”
“I hope this doesn't mean you lose interest, you know, now that I'm no longer a bad girl.”
“On the contrary. You've never looked sexier than you do now. Being legit really suits you.” She kissed her on the nose. “And you know what else suits you?” she asked mischievously.
“What?”
“Being buck naked.” Layke had already begun to work Willa's T-shirt up over her head.
Willa gave a smoky laugh. “I'm filthy. Are you sure you want my dirty body all over your clean one?”
“Quite sure,” Layke whispered, her voice sensual, brimming with sexual energy. It was a time for celebration, and she couldn't think of a better way to do that than making love to her stunning girlfriend, who had given up so much for her.