When Layne finished talking, he listened to silence.

So he prompted, “Dave…”

“Give me time,” Dave said quietly.

“What?” Layne asked.

“I need to think,” Dave stated.

“Jesus, about what?”

“About if this goes bad, I tell you and f**k it up with my daughter, how I’ll play that because, son, I don’t have eighteen years.”

Layne’s neck muscles got tight and he opened his mouth to speak but he heard Dave disconnect at the same he heard the beep that indicated someone walked through the door to the street.

Layne turned his head and looked at the monitor.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, flipping his phone shut and watching Astley’s girl toy, Marissa Gibbons walk up his steps.

He straightened from his chair and was two feet in the reception office when she opened the door and stopped, hand on the handle, staring at him.

Layne crossed his arms on his chest.

Marissa Gibbons swallowed then said, “Uh… hey.”

“Hey,” Layne replied with clipped courtesy.

“Uh… can we talk?” she asked.

“Talk,” he invited and didn’t move.

She stared at him, looked out in the hall, stepped into the office and closed the door. Then she turned back to him, her eyes skidding to the door to the inner office then back to his.

“Could we, uh… sit down?” she requested.

“No,” he denied.

She hesitated, glanced to the floor then back to him and asked, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee at Mimi’s?”

“No,” Layne repeated.

She stared at him and this lasted awhile.

Finally, she whispered, “You think I’m a slut.”

“Is that what you came to talk about?” Layne asked.

“Uh…” she began then faltered and stopped.

“Listen, Ms. Gibbons, I don’t think anything about you. You came here with somethin’ to say, say it. No disrespect, but I’m a busy man.”

“I had to do it,” she stated.

“Had to do what?” Layne asked, confused at her words, having started his day in Rocky’s bed and moved on to handing the photos of Stew over to Colt which meant Stew’s days of being a free man able to wear something other than a jumpsuit became severely limited. Then having this brilliant start diminish when he couldn’t find Merry anywhere and when he went back to The Brendel to see there were window cleaners and the gardeners raking leaves which meant he couldn’t stake out TJ Gaines’s apartment so he could find a safe time to break in. He was still pissed about his conversation with Dave and therefore he had zero patience left.

“The movies, I had to do them, I was ???” she started to explain.

Layne cut her off. “Listen, I don’t give a shit about that. I been in this business a long time, people do shit, shit they gotta do. I get that. You didn’t have to f**k my woman’s husband though, not ever but especially not for the reasons you did it. That’s not cool.”

Her eyes brightened and she took three steps forward, saying, “But, I’ve heard about you and her, in the ‘burg people talk about it. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had the chance –”

“Maybe you’re right,” he cut her off and the way he spoke, she stopped moving. “But you made her feel like garbage. You made her the chump. You caused her pain. I’m glad she’s rid of that ass**le but I’m not down with that.”

“Then why?” Marissa asked. “I don’t get it.”

“Why what?” Layne asked back.

“Why didn’t you… why did you…?” She stopped and started again. “I got two hundred thousand dollars from him and he let me keep the ‘vette. Mr. Glover told me what to say, how to play it, he helped me get it.”

“Mr. Glover’s got a soft spot for people who’re tryin’ to turn their lives around,” Layne returned.

She stared at him and as she did it, her stare turned shrewd.

Then she whispered, “You do too.”

“Come again?”

“You have a soft spot too.”

Layne took a deep breath into his nose then exhaled. What he didn’t do was reply.

Marissa Gibbons took the hint, nodded, turned and walked to the door. She had it opened when she turned back and locked eyes with him.

“I didn’t tell Social Services, but he pimped me out too,” she announced and Layne felt his stomach turn and his chest squeeze but she couldn’t know that so she went on to say more shit he really did not want to hear. “Never, back then, when someone was pumping away at me and I didn’t know anything but that it hurt so bad, it hurt so bad that was all I could think about, never did I think I’d have soft sheets and a fancy car and beautiful clothes and live in a house right on a lake. I got that shot and you’re right, I didn’t think about her, I jumped at it. And you know what?” she finished on a question.

“What?” Layne prompted when she didn’t go on, why he did not know.

“It was the same thing, some guy I didn’t like pumping away at me, just in soft sheets and it didn’t hurt so bad because I’ve long since discovered the wonders of lube.”

“Ms. Gibbons –” Layne started.

“One day,” Marissa said over him, “I was suckin’ cock while someone was filmin’ and thinkin’ about this social worker I had. She was young. She was pretty. She had a big, honkin’ engagement ring on her finger. And she was nice, she cared. She got me in a good foster home that I stayed in until they moved out of state and I got lost in the system again because that social worker got married and changed jobs and I was f**ked… again. And I was suckin’ cock and thinkin’ I’d rather be sitting at a desk, wearin’ an engagement ring and makin’ sure girls like me didn’t end up suckin’ cock. I started to find the path then lost my way.” She held his eyes and finished, “Then you and Mr. Glover helped me find it again.”

“Marissa,” Layne murmured and she lifted a hand and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“You know anyone that wants a nearly new ‘vette, I’m sellin’,” she declared, turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.

One second elapsed, Layne muttered, “Fuck,” then he dropped his arms and followed her.

When he was standing on the landing outside the door, he called, “Marissa.”