Strapped Down Page 14

“Claro que si!” Taylor replies.

  “Ay, pues dale, lo estas haciendo bien, mi hermano!” Cristobal claps with excitement.

  “Show off,” I say as Taylor dips me.

  “You know Spanish too.”

  “I can order an enchilada. You know like a gazillion languages.”

  He pulls me close, a la Dirty Dancing, and we start grinding on each other. Taylor nuzzles my neck as I notice that Chad, Kristin and Henry are gone. Lizzy is talking it up with Cristobal at the bar. The song ends just as Taylor’s phone starts lighting up and buzzing on his lounge chair. “Shit. Shy, I gotta take this.”

  “It’s fine,” I say as Taylor grabs his phone and walks to the other side of the house for some quiet. I meander back into the living room and find Chad crashed on the sofa. Lightweight. I wander through the rest of the house looking for the others, making it to a spare bedroom with the door closed. After giving two good warning knocks, I open the door.

  Henry jumps away from Kristin, her trademarked lipstick is smudged on his mouth.

  “Really?” I exclaim, shutting the door and marching off back to my room. I hear Kristin’s footsteps pattering behind me.

  “Shyla,” she whispers. “Shyla!”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “Come here,” she drags me by the arm into her room and closes the door. “It’s not what it looks like. Henry kissed me.”

  “You know normally I wouldn’t care. You are your own person and make your own decisions, but this is my boss you’re dating. And you know what? I like him and he doesn’t deserve to be played.”

  “I like him too! I swear, we were only flirting, but then he pounced me right before you opened the door.”

  “You were in a spare room with the door closed.”

  “I got carried away for a second, but I realized I was being stupid before he kissed me.”

  “You know the only reason I believe you? Because he did the same thing to me, before I started seeing Taylor.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, he’s a huge whore. Maybe borderline sex addict; I don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he hit on you?”

  “Because I didn’t think it mattered. Because you’re with Chad, and you two just did your thing because you were both available to each other that night. If I had thought you really liked him, I would have warned you more thoroughly.”

  “Now you have to tell me what you know about him.”

  “Guys like Henry don’t change. They never do. He’ll be the first one to tell you.”

  “I know, I know, but he’s so hot. I really was just flirting and I’m tipsy...”

  “You can’t just flirt with Henry. He doesn’t just flirt. What if I was Chad? You would’ve really hurt him and caused a big riff here.”

  “I know, I know. Chad’s passed out though. I would never put him in a position to see that.”

  I palm my forehead. “I just don’t want to see you mess things up with Chad because you and Henry get all grabby and kissy when you’ve had too much to drink. I know he’s good looking, and fun, and rich, but he’ll be just like the other guys you’ve dated.”

  “Well minus the rich thing, but I get your point. So, you really think he’s that bad?”

  “Not bad, just not right.” I pause for a moment and whisper: “You can’t say anything…but do you know he’s in love with Lizzy? Like seriously in love, and he can’t commit to her? I think he’s going after you because he’s confused. No offense, you’re hot and fabulous, but I spoke to him last night and there is a lot going on in his head. I know he has no shame, but he respects relationships. I don’t think under normal circumstances he would try to go after you with Chad in the house. I think he drank too much and he’s acting out because he is incapable of committing to the person who he is in love with and she’s moving on without him.”

  “So that’s why he was pouting during dinner.”

  “Yes. Honestly, I didn’t know until Taylor told me. So please, do not risk losing Chad over playing around with Henry. He is a dead end. You need to stop trying to go after the guys who you think you can save.”

  “I won’t, I won’t. And I would make sure that no matter what happens with me and Chad, it doesn’t affect your job. You know Chad’s not like that.”

  “I do, but hurt feelings make people do crazy things. And I am telling you this because I love you. If you don’t want to be with Chad, don’t, but don’t hurt him. Do it the right way.”

  “No, I want to be with him. I really do. I guess I’m freaking out because this feels really permanent. I mean, I really, really like him. I am so used to getting burned and sometimes I feel like I have to do it before he hurts me first.”

  “Please stop trying to sabotage yourself. Chad is not a jerk, he will not intentionally hurt you. You know that. Your relationship with him is not a competition.”

  “Thank you for talking some sense into me. You need to have your own column or TV show about relationships. You always have your shit together.” If she only knew.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  During our final full day in Arenal, we spend an afternoon in our own private hot springs. Taylor packs his phone away and promises to give me one full afternoon of his attention. Something I only notice on this final day is that Eric has not crossed my mind since we arrived in Costa Rica. I thought I would be scared and paranoid from the thought of possibly being geographically closer to him, but the security of my friends and Taylor make me forget for a while that there is someone out there who may want to hurt us. That feeling might return when we are back home, no longer tucked away in the jungle, but for now, I am happy to be truly relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  Kristin is all over Chad today; my gut tells me it’s to make it clear to Henry that she is now off limits. Learning what I have about Henry gives me an entirely new view on his behavior. It’s as if he torturing himself. But why? Why would someone want to do that? I know it seems almost hypocritical for me to ask that, but I’m not referring to the flesh. Physical pain is fleeting, and it can even feel good under the proper circumstances, but emotional torture, a life full of what-ifs, is far more painful than a slap or a cut. Maybe he genuinely wants two opposing things, and so, his needs will never be reconciled. One will have to give in to the other. For a moment that night when we shared the cigarette, I was certain he would choose to convince Lizzy that he should be the father of her child, that even though they might not be together, they could still share a life together. But less than 24 hours later, I stumble upon him trying to make out with my friend while her boyfriend is passed out in the next room. Now I see how helpless he really is.

  Upon our return to the house Taylor informs me that he has made surprise dinner plans just for the two of us. It’s very humid, so I put my hair back into a high bun and finally get to sport a white, billowy, off-the-shoulder white mini dress I bought for the trip. I pair it with strappy gold heels and remember the necklace that Marsha slipped into my box.

  “You look so glamorous!” Lizzy says as I enter the living room. Taylor looks striking as usual, wearing a pair of pale chinos and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He tans well and his eyes pop now more than ever against the olive glow.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Sure. Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Our driver is a local, but I can’t help but feel really nervous as he navigates the twists and turns on the very dark country roads. “You’re scared.”

  “No…Okay, yes. It’s so dark, it feels like we are going to careen off the road,” I whisper.

  “We’ll be fine. If we are gonna go out, something tells me the circumstances would be far more dramatic than this.”

  “Well, isn’t that comforting?”

  Eventually, we arrive to a very isolated side of the mountain. It is pitch black, so dark that the driver needs to use an industrial flashlight to guide us down the path.

  “If I didn’
t know any better, I would think you are trying to lead me to my imminent death,” I whisper to Taylor as I struggle to walk in my heels. “I wish you had told me not to wear these things.”

  “There’s a simple solution to that.” Taylor swoops me up in his arms as I let out a yelp. I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me through the dark mountainside. It is eerily silent, yet alive with countless exotic animal noises surrounding us. Minutes later, I see a light in the distance and once we arrive, a picnic area surrounded by tiki torches and completely canopied by sheer fabric. The torches cast a soft yellow glow that make the mosquito nets look like delicate chiffon. Taylor puts me down and raises the netting for me to pass through. The lavishly decorated picnic area is lush with pillows and fabrics and looks like an ancient king’s harem.

  “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Taylor, this is crazy. I love it.”

  “Turn around.” And behind me in the distance are gorgeous nighttime views of the volcano; bright orange glowing lava splitting the black night-sky.

  “Oh my god, that’s beautiful! When did you think of this? Is it because I was upset we couldn’t see it the other day?” We had tried to observe the lava-side of the volcano, but intense fog had made it impossible.

  He simply smiles at me.

  “I thought we could just chill out here for a while. It’s been fun, but I need a break from everyone. Being around people non-stop. It gets me on edge.”

  “I think you’ve been great. And if you want to spend some time unwinding in the middle of the Costa Rican wilderness with views of a glowing volcano, who am I to protest?

  We dine on cheese, crackers, and wine. I lay my head on his lap and we sit in silence for a long while.

  “You know, I spoke to Henry the other night.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, he told me he was in love with Lizzy. You were right.”

  “I know.”

  “I just don’t get him. He has a heart to heart with me about how he is afraid that if he doesn’t step up, he’ll never have the chance to have a life with Lizzy and then the next day, I catch him trying to make out with Kristin. It makes no sense.”

  “People are who they are. There is no point in trying to figure it out. We’re all full of contradictions, some just wear them more obviously than others. I assume that’s why he’s in love with Lizzy, she doesn’t try to change him, or insist he becomes someone else. And yet it’s the very same reason why they’ll never be together.”

  “Isn’t it tragic?”

  “I don’t know. Would an ultimatum that forced him to resent her be any less tragic?”

  “I guess not.”

  “They’re caught in a paradox. He loves her because she won’t be with him because she loves him the way he is.”

  “You just made my brain hurt,” I say as I fiddle with the charm on my neck.

  “Let me see that,” Taylor says, sliding the charm out of my fingers. His tone shifts from relaxed to interrogative. “Shy, where did you get this?” I sit up quickly, and look down at it wondering how this innocent little necklace could cause such a reaction.

  “Marsha put it in the box she gave to me. She found it in my old office and thought it was mine. I told her it wasn’t, but she told me to hold onto it. Why? Do you know whose it is?” He leans in and places it in his fingers again, closely observing it, twirling it as he shakes his head and moves his lips silently. He is obviously in disbelief. “Taylor.” He quickly yanks it off of my neck and takes a closer look. “You broke it!”

  “You can’t wear this. This is Em’s necklace.”

  “What?”

  Yeah. She swore she lost it at my place. She went nuts that week, apparently it had a lot of sentimental value. Her mother had given it to her for her 16th birthday. She thought she took it off at my place and that the cleaning lady had stolen it. It was a mess. She was crying about it that whole week and she was upset because I wouldn’t fire Irma. Then I broke up with her the next week.”

  “Over the necklace?”

  “Well, partly. I didn’t like how she accused Irma. But, like I told you, our time together had run its course.”

  “Woah. I had no idea. I would have never have worn this if I had known.”

  “I know. We should just get it back to her mom.”

  “Absolutely. Listen, I’ll send it back to Marsha and have her send it to Emily’s family. I’ll keep it safe in the case that I brought it in,” I say as I take the chain from him and slip it in my purse.

  “You sure? I can do it.”

  “Marsha told me how many times she reminded you to get me the box and we saw how that went. You’re too busy to be bothered with these trivial things.”

  The beautiful dark jungle that was once a relaxing retreat turns ominous. I was wearing the necklace of a dead girl. A necklace that was very important to her and preceded the demise of her relationship with Taylor. My earlier doubts begin to creep in. Henry told me I didn’t know the pre-Shyla Taylor, the man who would spend months holed up in his house, who had sex slaves at his beck and call and who would then discard them on a whim. I often forget who he was when we first met: his cold, calculated demeanor even when he thought I was special. I can only imagine how cold he could have been to her. After Taylor told me about her death, and our ensuing argument, I tried to bury it deep in my thoughts, to move on past their relationship, but I can’t help but feel as though this is a sign. My dangerous curiosity, the one that blew the case of Taylor’s mother’s death wide open, the one that unlocked Taylor’s bedroom door, begins to rear its ugly face again. I must learn more about Emily, if only to learn more about Taylor.

  ***

  The Monday afternoon on the day of our return is spent quietly in Taylor’s house. He retreats to his office to do some catching up, which gives me an opportunity to feed my hunger for knowledge about Emily. Unfortunately simply googling “Emily Brown” yields about 234,000,000 indistinct results. I narrow it down to “Emily Brown car accident,” then “Emily Brown drunk driving accident.” Finally, I find a handful of small articles discussing her death. Most are just a brief paragraph along the lines of: “A young woman’s body was retrieved from a river after her car careened off of a bridge. Autopsy results show she was at 2.5 times the legal alcohol limit.” Taylor never mentioned how horrific the accident was. The thought of her drowning in her car is unimaginable. Strangely, I have thought about dying that way before. There is something especially terrifying about it; while it’s sudden and jarring, if you are conscious, there is still time to contemplate your imminent death. Was she unfortunate enough to know her death was coming? Did she think of Taylor in her last moments?

  Finally, I come across an article with a little more detail. In it, her mother is mentioned. Needless to say, she was devastated by the loss of her young daughter. There is a picture of Emily. She looks exactly how I had pictured her: long auburn hair, green eyes, and pale with rosy cheeks and small lips. She looks thicker than me, not chunky or anything, just a larger frame with an ample bust, at least large enough for me to notice it through a sweater. Ugh. She was pretty, but not in a threatening way; the kind of sweet-looking girl that you could bring home to your mother. Getting visual confirmation of Emily makes me wonder what Taylor’s other subs looked like. There are no distinct similarities between us, other than the fact that I appear young for my age, which can also be interpreted as sweet-looking. That’s really grasping for straws; she and I look nothing alike. The article also contains the first mention of a fiancé, which catches me off guard since I am certain both Marsha and Taylor said she was already married. Maybe she never got that far. The article simply states that Evan Sumner, her fiancé, called the police hours after she left their home the night before. My heart breaks for this Evan guy, I can only imagine how panicked he must have felt, hoping for her safe return, only to then lose her forever. Maybe I should drive up to the small town her family lives in, just two hours north, and deliver the nec
klace myself. I feel an odd sisterhood with this girl, as jealous as I may be of the fact that Taylor was with her. I shelve the thought for now as there would be no way for me to do so without Taylor finding out.

  As I peruse the articles, my phone rings with a call from my mother. We haven’t communicated since we texted just before the vacation to Costa Rica. Even before that text, we hadn’t spoken in weeks. Whenever I asked her if something was wrong, she would say she was just stressed out by her job, and it makes me worry about a relapse. However, she has sounded sober when we have spoken, and so, I can only take her word that she is fine.

  “Hi mom.”

  “Hey Shyla.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Actually, I wanted to let you know I am flying in tomorrow. I was hoping you and I could have a couple of hours alone tomorrow night.”

  “Uh…of course mom. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “Oh nothing. I just missed you. You were so sick when you visited and I wanted to spend some more time with you.”

  “Well of course you are welcome to come visit. You just sound funny, like you’re upset.”

  “No sweetie. I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Maybe Taylor will want to come.”

  “I’m only staying for a day or so. Let’s not plan anything okay? Let’s just plan on meeting at your place, just the two of us. My flight arrives at five, don’t worry about picking me up.”

  “Uhhh…okay?”

  “Alright, I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I wander out of my bedroom in a stupor. My mother sounded like a complete stranger on the phone. Her poor planning, her tone, her lack of any desire to meet Taylor, even the fact that she didn’t ask for me to pick her up from the airport — none of that sounds like her. A terrible premonition stirs deep inside my belly.

  “Come in.” I enter Taylor’s office, visibly puzzled, my phone still perched in my hand, and sit in the very chair in which he first interviewed me. “What’s going on? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “I think something is wrong with my mother. Like really wrong.”