Strapped Down Read online

  “Taylor, I don’t want you to be mad at me when I tell you this. Please.”

  “Oh fuck. What is it?”

  “Please promise you won’t.”

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Fucking tell me.”

  I take a deep sigh. “A while back, actually that night when we played corny songs and danced…the night you choked me in your sleep.” Taylor’s diverts his eyes remorsefully. “I got a text from an unknown number, calling me a whore. I didn’t tell you at first because I thought it was a wrong number and we were having fun and your mood changes so easily. Then it started happening more frequently, feeling more personal. Finally, I texted the person back and he or she confirmed that they were directing the messages at me. You were so stressed and so I hired Kristin’s cousin, who is a P.I., to see where they were coming from. By then, all this drama had started, and I didn’t want you to overreact, and then I held onto the information so long, that I didn’t want you to get mad at me because I didn’t tell you in the first place…I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I guess you were so mad at Eric, and at the time I wasn’t convinced he was as bad as you said he was, and I thought that you might get more angry and do something stupid.”

  “Who were the texts from?”

  “Mr. MacAllister said they were sent from disposable phones, that he couldn’t find the identity of the person so easily. By the time I found that out, it was too late. Eric had already did what he did. So, I never told you because I know you’d be pissed that I didn’t tell you about the messages earlier.”

  Taylor sits in silence.

  “Say something,” I beg.

  He looks straight ahead. “You fucking lied to me. You put me, but more importantly yourself at jeopardy trying to somehow protect Eric from me?”

  “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intent. I was trying to protect you from doing something that might get you in trouble. You were already so angry with him. It just got all twisted after a while and everything happened so fast.”

  “And I sit here always wondering if there was something that I could have done to protect you, all the while you hid the fact that someone was threatening you while we were trying to figure out why the fuck Eric was here?”

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing you could have done. It wouldn’t have mattered if you knew about the texts.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s nothing I could have done! You have no fucking idea what I am capable of.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “You need to get something straight Shy -- I don’t need to be watched out for, or taken care of. I make the fucking rules. I take care of the problems. Your job is not to spare my feelings, or protect me from myself.”

  “I care about you, I was just trying to help.”

  “Well you can’t help. You don’t understand what people like me and Eric are capable of.”

  “You and Eric are not the same type of people. But I know exactly what you mean, which is why I didn’t want to stoke the flames.”

  “Well the flames are blazing now. Your hypocrisy is confounding.”

  “What?”

  “All you ever want me to do is open up to you, but you selectively keep little nuggets of info to yourself when you unilaterally decide it’s best. It’s bullshit, it’s hypocritical. I expect more from you than that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not. If I didn’t just make you, you would never have told me, would you?”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How am I supposed to take your word for it?”

  “I just wanted to give it some time.”

  “It’s been high time.”

  “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I should have told you. You’re right.”

  Taylor pulls over the car abruptly onto the dirt shoulder of the road and stares me down intensely. “I am Taylor fucking Holden. You do not coddle me. You tell me how it is at all times, good or bad. I take care of things. I do not need any fucking body to protect me. I am the person people should fear.”

  His brow is furrowed, his glare frigid. It may appear as a threat directed to me, but I know it’s not. It’s an assurance. Taylor wins. Taylor always takes care of business. If I am to be on his team, I am his responsibility, and it means I tell him everything.

  I nod.

  “No more lies,” he commands.

  “Okay.”

  The rest of the drive is silent. Just because I apologized does not mean he’s not still fuming. He’s right, I cannot keep the truth from him, while I maintain some sort of double standard for myself. I must tell him about his mother, but first, I have to find out what MacAllister called about. I must have every last bit of available knowledge before confronting him.

  We make a stop for gas and I go into the ladies’ restroom with the cell phone.

  “Shyla?”

  “Yes, sorry, I have to be quick. I am on a road trip. Any news?”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but I think I found Lyla Bordeau.”

  “What? She’s alive?”

  “The postcard was a huge break. I flew out to the town where it was postmarked which is actually in a different state from the postcard itself, in Montana. It’s very small, just a few hundred people. I started going through county records for women who would be her age living in town. I narrowed it down to a few dozen. Swung by a couple of their houses, even spoke to a couple of them. As I was about halfway through the list, I walked right past her on the street. I knew it was her instantly. She has aged remarkably well.”

  “Oh my god. Does she know about you?”

  “It’s a small town, people knew I was snooping around, but I told everyone I was looking for my adopted sister. So the attention was diverted regarding what I was really looking for. Anyway, I followed her back to her house. Did a little digging, she has a couple of adult children, had a husband who passed away. She seems to have completely moved on. I am going to email you the file. Her alias is Elizabeth Murrow.”

  “Have you spoken to her?”

  “No. I didn’t want to tip her off. She might disappear again.”

  I thank MacAllister for his work, and he promises to keep mum about the situation despite the fact that her “death” is a cold case.

  “Ready?” Taylor asks flatly as I approach the SUV.

  He walks over to the driver’s side as I slide into the passenger seat. I do my best to conceal the complete desperation I feel inside. He was livid about finding out about the texting situation. How will he react to this? I must tell him; there are no longer any excuses, but I am completely unprepared for how he might respond.

  I hold my phone tight until a chime alerts me a new email is in my inbox. Taylor won’t even look at me, so this time, I don’t worry about him seeing my screen. Sitting at the top of the inbox is a new email from Mr. MacAllister with the subject: Bordeau File. My finger itches for me to open it, but that is too risky of a proposition with Taylor sitting beside me. I calmly slide the phone back into my pocket doing my best to maintain a blank facial expression. Normally Taylor would notice something is off, but something already is off with us because of our argument, so it acts as a shield for the real emotional roller coaster stirring beneath.

  My mother. This news will affect her immensely as well. On one hand I am sure she will be thrilled to know her friend is alive, yet at the same time, there may be a great sense of betrayal. Mom was so certain Lyla would come back to them, she even started a life in a new place to be easier to find. Instead, Lyla started a whole new life, made new friends, formed a new family. Who is Lyla Bordeau? Who is this woman who has left so many damaged lives in her wake?

  Then there’s Randall and his warning. Maybe I am trouble, maybe Taylor and I together are even more trouble. Ever since I met Taylor, I have had a terrible habit of stirring up shit around me. Maybe it wasn’t destiny that lead me to Taylor, at least not in the sunny romantic movie type of way, but an ominous fate. The kind where tw
o lovers are fated for inevitable tragedy despite all the things people have done to prevent such a future. But it doesn’t matter, because despite the warnings, despite the trouble, the danger, all I want is to be with him. I feel alive when I am with him. Even if it hurts, I want to be with Taylor.

  I have only known Randall for a few days, but I feel a connection with him. He is another member of the “Taylor Holden has rocked my world club,” of which I am the president. Unfortunately for Randall, that’s not enough. I don’t give a shit about Randall’s reservations, I don’t care if bringing Lyla into the picture fucks with Randall’s world, or the life he believes he built for Taylor. That man impregnated a 16-year old girl, and we all reap what we sow, even if it is 32 years later.

  When we arrive to the house, Taylor makes a beeline to the bedroom. He has a four-day business trip tomorrow and has to repack for the trip. I must tell him tonight; I can’t sit with this information for the next four days. Besides, I am already in a shit storm, so I might as well get it all out while it’s raging.

  “Taylor?” I say, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom. He is already unpacking his bags.

  “Shyla, I don’t want to talk about it any more. You’re sorry, I know. I have to get ready for this trip.”

  “I, uh.”

  He looks over at me, rolls his eyes, and sighs. The only advantage I have coming into this is that he seems to have an inability to stay angry at me for long. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  Quietly, I sit on the bed and watch him pack for a few moments, trying to build the nerve to speak up again. “Taylor.” I attempt to sound forceful, but this time, my voice chokes up, my eyes well. At first, he doesn’t look up, being so focused on the task in front of him, but then he pauses and looks up at me quizzically.

  “Shyla? What is it?”

  “What am I about to tell you is because I want to. Because I love you, not because you’re mad at me or because of what happened earlier today. I swear it.”

  Finally, Taylor stops everything he’s doing and walks over to me, his tall shadow eclipsing the light from the lamp on the nightstand.

  “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

  “There’s one other thing I haven’t told you about MacAllister and why I hired him,” I say, reaching for his hand as I take a deep breath before revealing my final secret.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I look into Taylor’s eyes for a moment, taking in one last second of peace before things may change forever. I am about to change everything he thought he knew about his life. If there is anyone who knows what it feels like to have the sad truths you knew about your past to be a lie, it’s me.

  “Can you sit?” I ask.

  “No. Just go ahead and say it,” he says sternly. His hand remains limp in my soft grasp.

  “I don’t know where to start. When, when you told me about C.O.S, I started looking into things. You know I get curious. You said it yourself. And I found out there were others like you. I didn’t know at the time that I was one of those people. But I got curious, because I don’t know, I thought maybe we could find out more and maybe if we had more knowledge, we could use that to help you.”

  I pause for some sort of reassurance and to collect my thoughts, but Taylor remains completely silent. His only movement is that of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

  “So when I called MacAllister about the texts, I asked him to look into C.O.S some more. I never told him your name, or that you were involved in it. In fact, you probably know your identity was kept private.”

  Still, not an utterance.

  “Well, he called back and told me that your mother’s body was never found at the scene. I found this out on the same day Eric broke into the condo. I didn’t expect to have all this knowledge and I didn’t know what to do with it. But I didn’t want to tell you because, she might still be dead, and it was pointless to bring anything up unless we could find evidence she might be alive. She is presumed legally dead, but it didn’t sit right with me or MacAllister.”

  Taylor looks up and away for a second pulls in his lips as if holding something inside of him. He returns his stare at me, remaining eerily stoic.

  “And with the Eric stuff happening, I didn’t want to compound it further unless I knew for sure. So I paid him to look into her, but we hit a dead end. Everyone from C.O.S who might have known something, believe she was murdered by Alan Peters.” My father. “But MacAllister and I didn’t believe it. If Alan was evil as we all know he was, why would he let you live? It didn’t add up. But we were stuck, until my mother told me the truth about me. She thought Lyla was dead too, but she had some empty postcards that were sent to her and we thought that maybe, just maybe it was a clue. It was a longshot.”

  Finally, Taylor’s stoic facial expression breaks, his eyes weigh heavy, his jaw tightens, his breathing becomes louder, as if he knows in his soul what I am about to say next.

  “Taylor, we found her. MacAllister is sure of it. Your mother is alive,” I say as I rise to stand in front of him. He doesn’t respond, and for a moment I wonder if he understands what I just said. “Taylor, she’s alive.”

  His jaw tightens further. He looks down at my hand, and pulls it out of my grasp.

  “Please say something Taylor.”

  “My father. When you two spoke, did you talk about this?”

  “Listen, I can’t speak for him, but I did confront him. I asked if he knew her body was never found and he said he knew. He figured she was still dead, and if she wasn’t she may as well be, so he never told you. At the time I didn’t know she was alive. I ‘m not sure he would have wanted me to tell you, but I think you have a right to know.”

  Taylor stands still, I imagine trying to process everything. So many things no longer make sense now that she is alive.

  “I know where she lives.”

  “What has she been doing all these years?”

  “She started a new life. She got married, but she’s a widow now. She had another child. I believe she works at a hardware store…”

  The change I see in Taylor’s facial expression is so sharp, it frightens me.

  “What gave you the right?”

  “Wha…What?”

  “Who gave you the right to investigate my past, my life, talk to my father without ever telling me?”

  “I didn’t know it would go this far. Your father asked to speak to me.”

  “Of course, you just hired a P.I. hoping for nothing.”

  “I didn’t know what to expect, but I just had a feeling in my gut there was more. Apparently my hunch was right, there was so much we didn’t know.”

  “You went behind my back. This has been going on behind my back? For months! How many secret phone calls? How many lies, Shyla?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”

  “Stop trying to protect me! Fucking stop it!”

  “I know, that’s why I am trying to get this all out at once. No more secrets, I swear.”

  “What do you want from me, huh? You want me to hop on a plane and reunite with this woman? You think that somehow everything will magically be better? If you don’t want me how I am, if you think I’m broken or something, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

  “No. I don’t know what I wanted you to do, but I thought you had the right to know. And I want you to feel better for you, not for me.”

  “Shyla, if I wanted to know every little detail, I could have found out a long time ago. This is my fucking life. My life! You ran an investigation behind my back, without my consent, about me and my past.”

  “It’s my life too now! I’m with you now, and I was with you then. Our mothers were best friends, your mother and you put yourselves on the line so I could get out. I want to know about her too. I have a right too, this is my past too.”

  “She’s my fucking mother!” His voice booms, punctuating the argument, as he stabs his finger into his chest. I stand there silently, allowing him
to stew. I know how he feels, his head must be spinning, trying to trace back his entire life and think of every time he was told a lie relating to her, every instance where someone could have told him the truth, but refrained. Or maybe he’s rueing the day he met me, when his life was lonely, but much simpler.

  He presses his fist against his mouth, his eyes bouncing with hundreds of thoughts. “I’m going to the condo tonight. I need to be alone.”

  “No, no, no. I’m sorry Taylor. I swear to god, there are no more secrets. This is everything. I had to tell you. It’s the truth. Just because it changes everything, doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.”

  “I’m leaving. I’ll be back in four days.”

  “Taylor please. If there is anyone who knows what you are going through, it’s me.”

  “You don’t know shit about what I’m going through.”

  I know what pains him more than anything. It’s not that she’s alive, or that I did all this behind his back, at least that’s not the crux of it. He could have continued to live with the image of her as a cold-hearted cult follower, or even a child deserter, but no, she left him there among the dead bodies and moved on. She had another family, raised another child. As much as he speaks of moving on, he never really has. It’s not that she was dead to him that hurts so much, it was that he was dead to her. He thinks I don’t understand that feeling, but I do. I have lived with it all my life: the image of a father I grew up with, who was so much more real to me that the one I just learned of, abandoned me too. He left me to be with his drugs.

  I could say all this to him, but I know his mind is far too crowded to listen to me right now. He needs his space, just like I needed mine when I ran out of the condo after my mother broke the news.

  “I’m going to go now. I’ll have Harrison come back and bring my bags in the morning.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No, he’s got it.”

  I don’t push the matter. He grabs his wallet and keys, heading the the bedroom door.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I say to him as he passes through the threshold.