"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Jotaro urged her with a husky whisper in her ear.
"Mmmm, I don't want to," Layla whined, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.
He nudged her cheek with his nose making her groan in protest. His arm went around her waist, pulling her close.
"The Old Man and Grandma Suzi are expecting us," he reminded her, dropping kisses across her cheek and down her neck.
"Keep that up, and we won't getting out of bed anytime soon," she warned him, turning her head to catch his next kiss on her lips.
"That's very tempting, my love, but since you sent them out on a date last night we need to help them go through the responses to get a head count for the anniversary party. Time to get going."
He slapped her on the behind making her yelp.
"Okay, okay, I'll get up," she mumbled, rolling to the edge of the bed.
Her head ached so badly she would swear her brain pulsated inside her skull. This always happened when she cried too much. She had definitely cried way too hard for too long last night.
Glancing back at the man who stretched like huge child with arms stretched over his head, his hands balled into fists. He extended his long legs leaving his feet to dangle in mid air over the edge. When he groaned like a bear waking from hibernation, scratching his bare belly. She could not stop herself from giggling while watching him.
This goofball was the same man who patiently held her last night, allowing her to cry as loud and long as she wanted, whispering comforting words in her. When he told her everything would be fine, she believed him. She had to trust his promises in order to stop crying.
Forcing herself to a standing position, Layla grabbed her threadbare pink robe that had definitely seen better days. While wrapping it around her naked body, she trotted down the stairs.
"Do you want coffee or tea?" she yelled out from the kitchen which made a jolt of pain shoot through her head. God it was like having a hangover, but all she did was indulge in eating too much ice cream and shedding too many tears.
"Coffee is fine," Jotaro replied, putting on nothing but his black pants. His big bare feet slapped against each wooden step during his descent.
Layla watched him as he crossed the living room to walk outside onto the balcony to smoke. She wanted to run her fingers through his beautiful black locks still disheveled and messy from sleep. He has such amazing hair it was shame he always hid it under a hat. At least he had foregone the hat on this trip.
With his back to her, her eyes followed the fading red scratch marks from the top of his brawny shoulders to below his shoulder blades. Her face heated and her belly tightened with excitement from the recollection of what he did to her to make her put those scratches there.
"Oh, good God," she murmured, fanning her overheated face with an oven mitt.
Seconds after she pushed the button for the coffee pot to begin brewing, the telephone rang. Assuming it to be one of the Joestars giving them a wake up call, she answered the phone singing a cheery hello into the receiver.
"Layla, are you okay?" her father asked.
"Oh, it's you," she muttered, her stomach instantly twisting into agonizing knots.
"That's the greeting I expected," he muttered.
"Always happy to not disappoint. I'm hanging up now," she warned him, lowering the phone from her ear.
"I have something to say before you hang up!" he yelled loud enough for her to hear before she replaced the receiver.
Exhaling with a groan, she put the phone back up to her ear.
"What? What more could you possibly have to say, father?"
"Oh, you really are angry."
"Can you blame me?"
"No. But I won't apologize either."
"I'm hanging up now. For real."
Layla slammed down the receiver so he would hear without a doubt that she hung upon him. The phone started ringing again almost immediately. She lifted the phone a few inches from the cradle only to drop it back down to end the call. When he called back a third time, she brought the phone to her ear. Before she could say anything, he was already talking.
"Your biological father is alive," her father rapidly said so she would not hang up on him again.
"What?"
"Your biological father is alive," he repeated, carefully enunciating each word.
"I don't believe you," she returned in a hoarse whisper.
It felt like her throat was closing off. The shock squeezed the air out of her lungs and would not allow her to draw in another breath. She was even too stunned to cry. Her free hand shot out to act as a brace to hold her up before she fell face first into the counter.
"Why are you doing this? How could you stoop so low?" she hissed, panting lightly to replenish her air supply.
"This isn't some kind of trick," he assured her. "I've been looking into this for years. I have had my sources check and double check again. It's true. Your father is alive."
"I don't believe you," she repeated, lifting her head to look outside.
Jotaro was staring at her through the windows from the balcony. His eyebrows were drawn together in puzzlement and worry simultaneously. His cigarette dangled from his slightly parted lips.
Forcing a smile to her lips, Layla shrugged and pretended everything was okay although it anything but okay. Turning her back to Jotaro so he could not see her face rapidly losing its color, she leaned her back against the counter to keep herself in a standing position. The discomfort of the wood biting into the small of her back kept her from fainting despite the dizziness swamping her.
"Why are you just telling me this now?" she inquired. "What are you trying to pull? I had no idea you were capable of such low, dirty tricks. But of course you had to do something drastic to keep me away from Joseph, now you're doing the same with Jotaro."
"I assure you this is no trick. No diversionary tactic. No lie. I have been searching for any possible living relatives since you were a child. Uncles, aunts, cousins...hell, I would have been satisfied for a third cousin five times removed. I never imagined your actual father would be alive," he murmured as if still flummoxed himself.
"Then why hasn't he ever come to find me?!" she yelled, sliding her body along the lower cabinets to sit on the floor before she toppled over.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Layla heard the click of the door opening as Jotaro entered. When he squatted down in front of her, his mouth opening for him to speak, she pressed her finger to her lips and shook her head.
"Tell me why," she demanded in a hoarse whisper.
"Because he thought you were dead," her father finally answered.
"What?" The single word question was nothing more than a gasp.
Tears, hot and bitter, burned her eyes before streaking down her cheeks. Jotaro placed a large comforting hand against her cheek, wiping away the wetness with his thumb. Although he had a dozen questions, he remained silent while gazing worriedly at her face.
"I cremated your mother and sent her ashes back to Italy to be placed in the Zeppeli family crypt. I placed a small portion of her ashes in a second jar and said they were yours. I wanted whoever was trying to kill all Zeppeli heirs to think you died along with your mother. I was protecting you," he explained, his words coming faster and faster as pure panic set in.
"Oh, my God," she moaned in disbelief, the receiver falling from her hands to hit the wooden floor with a clatter.
Jotaro scooped up the phone and pressed it to his ear. His eyes narrowed into angry slits and the angles of his face became sharp as the muscles tightened when he heard Dr. Clapton's panicked voice yelling Layla's name over and over.
"What did you say to her, you bastard?" Jotaro demanded. "Tell me!"
Jotaro pulled Layla forward, pressing her face into his bare chest when she started to wail, stifling her sobbing into pitiful mewling. His arm tightened around her shoulders protectively mashing her face into him while her father babbled almost nonsensically.
"Oh, my God, why did I tell her? I knew this would hurt her. I never wanted to tell her. I shouldn't have told her. Layla? Are you there? I know I shouldn't have done what I did. I can't take back the past no matter how much I wish I could. I'm so sorry, my darling girl, oh, my God, oh, my God. I never should have done it."
"What did you do?"
Dr. Clapton recounted the confession of his most horrible lie, lying about her death, before he admitted the astounding revelation of finding her biological father.
"I just found out and didn't really want to wait to tell her," Dr. Clapton said as if trying to defend himself for having to divulge that information today in this specific moment.
"Well, your timing really sucks," Jotaro growled, hugging her tightly to him as her tears ran down his bare chest.
"I know," her father agreed with a shuddering inhale. "There's not much I can do about the timing. I've had contacts in Italy working for years to find someone, anyone, from the Zeppeli family who might still be alive. I just received the information yesterday. I was going to wait longer to tell her, but - "
"Then why didn't you? It's waited this long, what's another week? Or even one more day! You just couldn't wait until I was gone. You had to do something to ruin our time together, to put her into some emotional tailspin to pull her away from me. How can you be so selfish?"
"One day you will be a father, and you'll find out Jotaro Kujo. You'll understand what drives a man to be a total asshole and do questionable things to protect your child," he said as if issuing a curse and a warning simultaneously.
"Dr. Clapton, and I mean this with all disrespect, fuck you," he snarled.
Jotaro threw the receiver at the rest of the phone hanging on the wall. The power of the impact caused the plastic of both parts to shatter into dozens of pieces leaving the metal parts and wires hanging from the wall and scattered about the floor.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Jotaro whispered to Layla, cradling her head with one hand as he gently rocked her back and forth. "I'll call the Old Man and let him know what happened. We can stay here. I'll go get food and more ice cream and - "
"No," she interrupted him, pressing her palms flat against his chest to push herself back from him. Her watery muddy brown eyes met turquoise ones clouded with fury. "I'm going to take a shower and a fix my face. We're going over there, and we're going to pretend like none of this happened."
"But Lala - " he started to protest only to have her finger laid against his lips to shush him.
"I'm not going to ruin their happiness. They are looking forward to celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. It is my duty to go over there and help them with the few final details. We are going to be happy for them. Do you understand me?" she asked him, her eyes shifting back and forth between his.
"Layla, I love you," he said, grasping her chin and pulling her forward to kiss her. The kiss was firm, almost bruising, with the force of his effort to show her how much he meant those words.
"Good because tonight you're going to bring me back here and show me later. You're going to make love to me for hours, until I beg you to stop," she warned him.
Issuing a heavy sigh as if to rid herself of all of the negative emotions, she blinked rapidly to push back another onslaught of tears. Her shiny eyes met his, and she smiled, her lips quivering.
"When I cry afterward, will you hold me?" she requested, sniffling.
Jotaro smiled then pressed a featherlight kiss to her lips.
"Do you really have to ask? You know I'll hold you until you stop," he promised her.
"I love you so much, Jojo. With all my heart."
~\'/~
Layla gazed out of the window of the taxi on their way to the Joestar's apartment. Watching the people on the sidewalk and reading the name over every store they passed enabled her to keep her mind busy enough not to think about what her father had said.
How can my biological father be alive?, she pondered, her intrusive thoughts torturing her. Maybe he was spared because he was not a Zeppeli by name or birth. I don't know a damn thing about my real father. Hell, apparently I don't know a damn thing about my adoptive father either.
She sighed heavily, focusing her eyes on the signs again. A colorful neon sign caught her eye. The gas filled tubes glowing pink and purple formed the basic shape of a camera. Purple. If Joseph used Hermit Purple with a camera, she could see a picture of this man who is supposedly her real father.
"Stop the car," Layla ordered the driver. "Pull over right here."
"What are you doing?" Jotaro asked, grabbing her arm when she opened the door and prepared to get out.
"I just need to grab something," she told him. "Wait for me right here," she addressed the driver.
"Hey, lady, I can't double park," the driver informed her as he pulled up next the cars already filling the few parking spots.
"Then drive around the block and come right back here," she ordered him impatiently. She tried to slide out of the car but Jotaro would not relinquish the grip on her arm.
"I'll be quick," she assured him. "It's important."
Without another question, Jotaro released her.
Layla ran into the camera shop. She had never seen so many cameras in all of her life. There were antique cameras with accordian like bellows on them and some that looked like boxes with lenses attached to them. There were also all of the newest and extremely expensive models as well.
"Can I help you?" asked the man standing behind the glass case full of lenses, flash bulbs, and film.
"Can I get a polaroid camera?" she requested.
"Sure thing," he replied, walking down a little ways behind the counter to pull a box from the shelf. "You'll be needing the film too?"
"Of course."
It seemed like a waste of film considering only one picture would be made. Joseph would have to completely destroy the camera in order to create the single picture conjuring the image of this mystery man. While they were searching for supposed heirs, perhaps he should do a little investigating for himself.
"Can you make that two of those cameras?"
~\'/~
Layla told herself not to say anything to Joseph about the picture today. It would have to wait for another day, but she at least wanted to get the camera to have it handy. She stowed the bag containing both cameras in the cabinet in the foyer along with her purse after she used her key to enter the apartment.
"Hello! We're here," she called out as they walked down the short hall toward the living room and kitchen.
"Oh, Layla, great timing!" chirped Suzi, placing the pie plate she had just taken out of the oven on the unlit burners on the top.
"That's a first for timing today," Jotaro muttered receiving an elbow in the ribs.
"I baked a ham, swiss, and asparagus quiche for brunch," she proudly announced.
"Sounds gross," her grandson muttered to his girlfriend but dodged her bony elbow this time.
"It's delicious. Grandma Suzi and I have made this several times. It's our favorite," she informed him, taking the few steps required to enter the kitchen. "Can I help with anything?"
"Get the champagne and orange juice out of the refrigerator for the mimosas. There's a fruit salad as well. I'll get the plates," Suzi said, opening the cabinet to the right of the stove and standing on her tiptoes.
"I'll get the plates," Jotaro said, entering the kitchen to assist. "Grandma Suzi, why don't you go sit down and Layla will be happy to make one of those - what was it called?"
"Mimosa," both women replied in unison.
Suzi took a seat on the other side of the counter in one of the bar stools rather than going to the dining room on the other side of the wall from the kitchen.
"I smell something delicious!" Joseph declared when he entered the room. "Oh, the kids are here. Why didn't you come get me, Suzi?"
"They just got here, darling. Oh, thank you, dear," she said to Layla who placed the champagne flute full of champagne and orange juice in front of her.
"Sit down, Grandpa Joe," Layla invited him, directing him with a wave of her hand to take the bar stool beside his wife as if he were at a restaurant rather than his own home. "Coffee or mimosa?"
Joseph raised a questioning eyebrow. He couldn't believe the overprotective nurse was actually going to allow him either one.
"Both?" he ventured. The worst she could do was say no after all - which she did a lot when it came to his food and drink choices.
"Coming right up," she jovially returned, turning toward the coffee pot beside the stove. She poked Jotaro who winced away from her because she tickled him. "Will you get me two coffee cups please?"
"No, mimosa?" Joseph asked as Jotaro handed her the plain white mugs.
"Gimme me a sec, will ya?"
"Now you sound like a true New Yorker."
"I'll get the cream," Jotaro said, brushing past her to go to the refrigerator as she poured the coffee.
"Suzi Q., there's something wrong," Joseph whispered so loudly they could have heard him in the next room.
"There's nothing wrong," Layla and Jotaro responded in harmony.
Joseph raised a dubious eyebrow as he watched the two youngsters in the kitchen. Something had definitely happened, and they are trying to act like everything is fine when it most certainly isn't.
"The boy is being nice. It's weird. And scary."
"He has his moments," his grandmother defended him, sipping her mimosa. "Don't be suspicious. Maybe our Layla is being a good influence on him."
"Hmph," Joseph snorted doubtfully, folding his arms across his big barrel chest. "Okay. Out with it you two. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Layla said, placing the cup of black coffee in front of him.
"Hmmm," Joseph hummed pensively, trying to figure out what the problem might be. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"
"No!" she squeaked almost dropping the carton of cream while pouring some into her cup.
"It wouldn't be totally horrible if you were," Jotaro said in one of his grandfather's really loud stage whispers.
"The timing would be terrible. Timing just doesn't seem to be our thing today either does it?" she reminded him.
"Shit," Jotaro muttered. "That wasn't funny was it?"
"Uh uh," she replied with a shake of her head as well.
"What the hell just happened?" Joseph demanded. "You two are about as subtle as a heart attack."
"Not funny, Grandpa," Layla muttered irritably, pouring cream into her coffee.
"Poor choice of words, I'll admit. So what's going on? And don't say nothing."
"Layla, you know you can tell us anything. Talk to us," Suzi Q. urged her sweetly.
"No. Not right now. We have this delicious brunch to eat then anniversary party plans to finalize." She placed her hand over Suzi's. "We are here to celebrate you. We can talk about my problems later."
Although they wanted to pursue the subject, Joseph and Suzi dropped it. However, the subject of her biological father was not done with Layla yet. Halfway through brunch, the doorbell. Thinking it might be the doorman delivering mail which could contain late RSVPs, Layla volunteered to answer the door.
When she opened the door, Dr. Clapton's assistant stood there with a heavy and imposing manila envelope extended to her.
"I don't want it," Layla said, attempting to close the door.
Gerald boldly stuck his foot in the door to prevent her from closing it. He shoved the envelope through the door at her.
"Take it," he insisted. "Your father wanted me to bring this to you immediately. It's important."
"Not right now. Take it to my apartment and leave it there," she requested. "Now move your foot before I break it."
Layla applied pressure to the door which in turn squeezed his foot clad in an expensive black wingtip. She glared directly at the man's face while continuing to push harder on the door. He grunted, his jaw clenching as he gritted his teeth against the pain.
"He said it's imperative I hand deliver it to you. Personally," he added, pushing the word through his teeth clenched against the pain. "He will do worse things to me than this if you don't take it."
Damn...I guess my father is even scarier than I imagined, she thought. With a sigh of relief, Gerald removed his foot from the between the door and the frame when she eased up on the pressure. She snatched the envelope from the stubborn man who would be in danger of losing life or limb if she did not take it.
"Tell Dr. Clapton his package has been received," she said, slamming the door in the persistent man's face.
Opening the cabinet in the foyer, she put the envelope in the bag with the cameras. She ran back down the hall to the kitchen hoping her face did not show what she was feeling. When she saw the concerned and questioning expressions on Joseph and Suzi's faces, she knew she had failed.
Then she noticed Jotaro would not look at her. He had developed a sudden appetite for the quiche he had not displayed in the entire last thirty minutes of their meal. He was shoveling in the egg based tart as if it might be last meal. If he did what she thinks he did, it very well could be.
"Who was that, dear?" Suzi asked her, her silvery blond eyebrows drawing together while the wrinkles around her mouth deepened with her frown.
"Just some unwanted mail. No late RSVPs though," she said, going in to the kitchen to grab the coffee pot for refills. "Another mimosa, Grandma Suzi?"
"No, dear. I would like some water though, please," she requested.
Layla could use a glass herself. She poured them both a glass of water and after placing one in front of Suzi, she reclaimed her barstoold between Jotaro and Joseph. It was like sitting between two brick walls with elbows. Big, powerful elbows she had to occasionally dodge to avoid taking one to the face or neck.
Giving up on eating entirely, mostly because she had lost her appetite, partly because she did not want to get a black eye, she took her plate and coffe mug to the sink. She finished off her strawberries and pineapple. At least she had eaten all of her quiche before the unexpected delivery.
After pouring herself another cup of coffee, she began running water in the sink in preparation to wash the dishes. Good thing a busy day lay ahead of them.
Jotaro brought over his and his grandfather's dishes, nudging her playfully with his elbow when he placed them beside the sink. Even though he was curious about who was at the door and what she had really received, he did not ask. Instead, he kissed the top of her head and exited the kitchen before she enlisted his help with dish duty.
"Hey, Old Man, can we go to your study? I want to have a look at some of those souvenirs from Egypt," Jotaro said, slapping his Grandfather on the shoulder.
"Ow, shit that actually hurt you brat," he muttered, trying in vain to rub his stinging shoulder blade. "Why the hell would you want to look at any of that stuff?"
"We need to finish our conversation," Jotaro responded, receiving a warning glare from Layla which he summarily ignored.
"Ooookay," Joseph murmured, avoiding looking at Layla at all.
"I'll go get those responses and the guest list," Suzi declared, taking her husband's hand to elegantly slide from the barstool.
"All right. I'll finish up here," Layla said, retrieving the last few dishes to wash them.
By the time Suzi returned, Layla was sitting at the counter with refilled glasses of water and mugs of fresh coffee for them. Suzi placed the box and clipboards with papers attached on the counter between them.
"Here we go," Layla announced, opening the box to take out the first envelope.
"You'll need this," Suzi said, handing her a letter open that looked like a short, super thin jagged dagger.
Layla studied the item for a moment. For all she knew, this could be an actual weapon Suzi had mistaken for a letter opener. Shrugging, she slipped the tip under the edge of the envelope and pulled, slicing open the paper cleanly and without much effort.
"Fifty years," Suzi sighed as she cut open her first one with a letter opener that resembled a miniature sword. "I just can't believe it."
"Fifty of the best years of your life?" Layla rejoined, not intending for it to sound like a question.
"There were definitely many good years. But there were some hard years too. Some really bad things happened...to us and to the people we loved. We helped each other through those instances. We certainly had our rough patches in our relationship," she confessed, pulling out the card. "But we always loved each other."
Layla smiled, taking the card from her to mark down under the appropriate column if the respondee had accepted or declined attending the party.
"You've always been happy, no matter what, haven't you, Grandma Suzi?" she asked, taking out the next two envelopes.
"I've always done my best to be happy. It hasn't always been easy," she admitted, giving Layla one of her radiant smiles. "Life is what you make it, dear."
Layla wondered if Suzi had purposely deluded herself over the years in order to cope with all of the bullshit that came her way. The poor woman had even been possessed by one of the Pillar Men and tried to kill the man who would become the love of her life. Yet here she is, all smiles, placing that event under the understated "really bad things" category.
Layla did not know if she could be so understanding or forgiving. There were some really bad things that Suzi Q. did not know about. That rough patch would be like a big pothole in the road of life. Perhaps Joseph was not wrong in keeping his secret. Ignorance truly can be bliss and knowing the truth might hurt worse than remaining delightfully oblivious.
"Layla, are you okay?" Suzi questioned her, taking the unopened envelope from her.
"Fine," she lied, fishing out another envelope to open it. "An acceptance. Jean Pierre Polnareff."
"Polnareff," Suzi repeated, mulling over the name. "Wasn't he one of the young men who traveled with Joseph and Jotaro to Egypt?"
"I believe you're right. No wonder that name sounded familiar," she said, laying the card on top of the growing pile of acceptances.
A self-proclaimed ladies' man, fond of saying he was a lover and not a fighter, Polnareff was actually quite the opposite. He was a girl crazy, bumbling flirt. But he was also a strong ally who could kick some serious ass and would not sacrifice his honor to his own detriment sometimes.
Joseph had told Layla several stories of events that happened on their cross continent trip. Quite a few of them were hilarious, poor Jean Pierre often being the one bearing the brunt of the humiliation. She cried when he related the story of when Jean Pierre encountered the Stand who took on the form of his dead sister and pretended to be her in an attempt to kill him.
"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Layla murmured. After opening a few more envelopes, she asked, "How did Joseph react when he found out Holly was getting married?"
"Well, we did not find out until she had eloped and already married him. That was probably a pretty smart move on her part," she said with a chuckle. "JoJo would have never allowed her to marry that man otherwise."
"I guess fathers have a tendency to go a little bit crazy when it comes to their daughters."
Yet she still did not understand her adoptive father's extreme and absolutely insane actions.
"When Joseph found out she was married and moving half a world away, I was afraid he was going to kill Sadao and make her a widow or have a heart attack and make me one...or both."
Suzi Q. tittered with laughter. Always happy. No matter what.
Layla did not laugh. She had never seen Joseph genuinely enraged to the point of committing murder. However, she knew the man to be capable of killing people with his bare hands because he had done so before.
They continued to sift through the box of responses. So far there had only been acceptances and no declinations to come to the party. This looked like an event no one wanted to miss.
Joseph and Jotaro emerged from the study around lunch time. Joseph came to stand behind Suzi while Jotaro sat down on the barstool beside Layla.
"Are you two ladies almost done? I'm getting kinda hungry," Joseph declared, placing his large hands on Suzi's small delicate shoulders to gently massage them.
"Almost. Just a few more to go," Layla said, pulling out the next RSVP card. "Oh, by the way, Jean Pierre is coming."
"Jean Pierre huh? I wonder if he's found a girlfriend yet," Joseph mused sounding doubtful.
"I'll finally be able to put a face to the name," Layla said, turning to look at Jotaro whose mouth quirked up on one side. "What?"
"Trust me, it's a face you'll never forget," he warned her.
"Don't be an asshole, boy," Joseph chastised him. "Are you worried he might steal away your woman? Better keep a tight hold on her then."
"Yeah, not a chance in hell, Old Man," Jotaro growled, leaning forward to place a possessive arm around her shoulders. "He can try, but nothing can take her away from me."
~\'/~
Upon returning to her apartment, Layla dropped the bag with the cameras and the packet of papers from her father on the counter. The large yellow envelope slid out of the bag onto the glossy white countertop as if begging for her attention, but she ignored it. Instead, she went to the wine rack for a glass and a bottle of red wine.
"Do you want a drink?" she asked Jotaro while rifling around in the drawer for the corkscrew.
"No," he replied, picking up the envelope. "Did you want to look at any of this?"
"No," she answered curtly, stabbing the sharp kitchen implement into the cork.
"Are you sure?" he inquired, toying with the metal clasp on the back.
"Are you that curious?" She held the bottle in one hand and expertly snatched the cork out with the device in the other with a pop.
"Aren't you?"
"Not really. honestly, at this time, I'm not sure what to think about any of this." She glared at the envelope containing possible proof that her biological father is still alive.
"Hey, I'm going outside to smoke," Jotaro announced, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat.
"I'll join you," Layla declared, following him to the balcony with wine glass in hand.
She took a seat on the red cushion on the black rattan couch placing her bare feet on the glass top of the outdoor table. Her eyes settled on Jotaro as he stood at the banister, his foot propped on the black iron bottom rail while cupping his hand around his cigarette and lighting up.
At first the silence between them was comfortable, both lost in their own thoughts. But their speechlessness continued for far too long, their thoughts eventually gravitating toward each other. Not knowing exactly what to say, neither one of them said anything, each holding their peace while a sense of apprehension strained their nerves.
Layla finished her wine and stood up to get more as Jotaro lit up his third cigarette. He usually was not a chain smoker, however, today had been a strenuous day for both of them.
"Layla."
"Yeah?"
"If you want to see what's in there, I will be right here for you."
Layla did not say anything and walked inside. She poured herself another glass of wine. Lingering at the counter, her fingers drifted over the envelope. What fresh new hell would be rained upon her from lay inside?
"Oh, fuck it," she muttered, grabbing the envelope and tearing off the top without bothering with the clasp or unsealing it delicately.
Flipping it over, all kinds of documents including photographs spilled out across the counter. There were birth certificates; hers and her mother's. Although they were not married, her mother's birth certificate listed Caesar Zeppeli as the father. Unknown in all caps was listed on hers in the block for father's name. Clue number one as to how the man could have survived the execution, not to mention the fact he was not a Zeppeli by name or birth himself.
"Of course," she muttered, picking up the plane ticket to open it up. The departure date was two days away - the day before the anniversary party. Destination: Naples, Italy. "Your timing really sucks, Dad."
Layla ripped the ticket in half and threw in the trash can. The stack of letters tied with a red ribbon were set aside to be read at another time. Love or otherwise, whatever secrets held there would have to wait. She picked up the photographs. The picture on top was of her parents as a happy teenaged couple.
They were wearing school uniforms: white shirts, red ties, red, white, and black plaid, skirt for her, pants for him. Her mother wore a tiny gold cross around her neck. Her mother was a brunette. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the same color of burnt umber eyes .
Her father, on the other hand, was blond, his golden locks the same shade as hers. His eyes were a striking forest green. He was also exceptionally light skinned for an Italian man - like her grandfather. She had always heard that women have a tendency to gravitate toward men who remind them of their fathers. This man certainly shared a lot in common in Caesar Zeppeli.
In another picture, her mother was about her age, sitting on a bench on an ocean fishing pier. She was wearing a white dress covered in huge red polka dots. Deep dimples were on her mother's cheeks because she was laughing. The love of her life must have said something funny before the picture was taken.
There was a photo of her father alone, wearing a black suit with a maroon tie. A black fedora covered his hair so she could not see the color or style or even determine the length. His gleaming eyes stared directly into the camera. There was no happy smile on his face. He looked like the quintessential mafioso.
The next photo was of her mother sitting in a hospital bed, exhausted, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, but smiling happily while holding a red faced screaming baby swaddled in pink blanket. There was sheer joy in her mother's tearful eyes. She put down the rest of the photos without looking at them.
There was a long sheet of paper covered with a beautifully drawn tree. The names were written on the leaves attached to the branches displaying her heritage beginning in the early 1800s. Her father's name appeared on this written document made strictly for the family.
"Anthonio Dante Lagorio," Layla recited out loud as if trying out the sound of his name to her own ears.
She shuffled through the stack of print outs, skimming through the numerous pages for specific bits of information. His birthplace was noted as Sardinia but no names of parents or other relatives were included. His family moved to Naples when he was sixteen where he started attending the same parochial school as her mother.
Layla discovered her parents got married secretly. Like Romeo and Juliet, they had gone to the priest in the middle of the night to get married in order to hide the union from her family because they did not approve of Tony Lagorio, a mafia soldier. Well, that explained a lot.
In his early thirties, Dante, as he preferred to be called, went to work at the Angelis Vineyard. He hoped to gain her parents approval by getting a legitimate job, even though the vineyard was owned by his mafia family Capo. Eventually he inherited the estate and winery from the Captain who died with no children of his own to leave it to.
The Zeppeli's never did except or acknowledge Dante which worked to his advantage since he's still alive. She did not find any evidence of him ever getting remarried or having any other children besides her. Her fingers trembled as she set down the papers to pick up the pictures again to thumb through them.
There were more random pictures of her parents alone and together at different ages and many different outfits. There were many pictures of her as a tiny infant alone and with other family members but none with her father. Then she found a photo of her father holding her when she was a few months old smooshing his lips into her chubby baby cheek. This was probably taken right before her mother took her and fled for her life.
"Oh, my God," she gasped, placing her hand over her mouth to hold in the sob as the floodgates opened again.
A pair of strong arms went around her, Jotaro's broad chest pressing against her back.
"I thought you said you'd be on the balcony," she said, her voice warbling through her tears.
Jotaro's chest vibrated against her back when he started laughing making her laugh as well.
"I can go back out there if you want me to," he told her, his arms loosening around her body.
"Don't you dare," she giggled, turning in his arms and latching onto his waist. "Oh, I love you."
"I know. Just as you should."
"Jerk," she snorted, poking him in the stomach hard enough make him emit a soft 'oof.'
"I love you too," he laughed lightly, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
"Mmmm," she hummed, leaning into his chest and pressing her cheek to his heart. "I know I'm not making it easy for me to you to love me."
"Anything worth having is worth fighting for, right?"
"I suppose so." Her arms tightened around him, giving him a good squeeze.
"Why don't we go up to bed?" he suggested, hugging her until she couldn't breathe.
"Oooh, how could I say no to that?"
Layla took him by the hand to lead him up the stairs. At her beside, she turned to him, sliding her hands up his chest and over his broad shoulders to push off his jacket. Her fingers shook making it difficult to undo the buttons on his shirt.
"Let me help," he whispered to her, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He started unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom to meet her clumsy fingers in the middle.
His big fingers were surprisingly nimble when freeing the small pearl buttons on her shirt. He peeled off the layer of cream colored silk dropping it on top of his jacket before shrugging out of his shirt. Reaching around her waist, he unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt allowing it to fall to the floor. Leaving her ivory camisole and panties on, he picked her up and lay down on the bed.
While she burrowed under the covers, he shimmied out of his pants and crawled in with her under the sheets and puffy comforter. Scooting up next to her, he folded his much bigger body to form to hers, his definitely littler spoon.
"Layla, I'm going to ask you a question. You don't have to answer now, but I want an answer before I leave. I won't ask you again. I won't argue or complain. Whatever answer you give me, I will accept it," he said, his arms constricting around her.
Layla could not tell if it was him shaking or her shaking but her entire body trembled.
"Will you come live with me in Japan?" He paused inhaling deeply as if getting ready to go on a long diatribe. "We don't have to get married. We can just live together. I found an apartment within walking distance of the university. There is also a nearby hospital where you can get a job. I've thought long and hard about this and I'm serious."
Obviously, she thought, reminding herself to breathe.
"Is this what you were discussing with your grandfather?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Of course he's totally on board."
"Of course," she murmured.
First her father, then Joseph, now Jotaro. While she appreciated all of the caring men in her life, she was getting a bit fed up with them thinking they knew what was best for her. They seemed to think they could make better decisions than her as to what she should do and how she should conduct her life. Their arbitrary actions had become absurdly controlling despite being hidden under the guise of good intentions and love.
Layla was getting a bit put out with all these well meaning men devising plans without telling her and just expecting her to go along with their arrangements for her life. She had her own hopes and dreams and desires for her life. Compromise is key but being totally ignored is something quite different. She wanted her plans to coincide with Jotaro's and not clash with them, for them to live their lives in unified harmony working toward their own goals while having common ones as well.
No one wants to be told what to do all of their life. "Because I love you" was not working as a reason any more because it was seeming more and more like emotional blackmail used to keep her in line with their desires.
She exhaled noisily, closing her eyes. Perhaps she was just overthinking things and should just get some sleep.
"I'll think about it, Jotaro," she said, feeling him tighten his arm around her as if she might run from him at that very moment.
"Good night, Lala."
"Good night."