Paradise Forbidden

by Natalie E. Wrye

  I’ve been moping around for the past month and a half, making my two best friends do the grunt work. I’ve had them look up and down and sideways: front-ways and back-ways. They’ll never find her.

  But Trevor can.

  My excitement shoots off the charts. I know where she’ll be. I practically jump out of my skin from the anticipation. I say my “Goodbye’s” to Chris and Griff, barely shaking their hands and patting their backs, before heading straight out of the office for my own desk.

  Chris and Griff, even Brendon, won’t understand. Kat is no fool, and she’s a pro at navigation. She’s probably run circles around them, lapped them twice and come out three steps ahead. They never saw it coming.

  Once I hit my office door, I make a beeline for the desktop, grabbing my laptop and booking a one-way ticket to Tennessee.

  ***

  In the short time since I’ve landed in the good old Volunteer state, I’ve become obsessed with my watch.

  Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds at the Rent-a-Car center. A thirty-six minute drive into town. I circled back in the cul-de-sac, and that took two additional minutes.

  And now I’m standing in front of the house.

  Four minutes. Four long minutes and counting…

  I look off into the horizon, gazing at the other houses on the street. Heat waves permeate the air, giving the cul-de-sac a blurry haze.

  I thought it would be cooler than Florida because of its more northern location. I’ve climbed from the Hades-laden streets of Tampa into the seventh circle of Hell. It seems the Tennessee heat is clearly sweltering this time of year. I’ll turn into a puddle before she even answers the door.

  My t-shirt’s soaked through; my shorts are sliding off. She can ignore me all day, but I’m not going anywhere.

  There’s a car parked outside so I know someone’s home. I glance down at my watch and see the fifth minute tick by.

  A bead of sweat runs down my face, landing on my hiking shoes. The door opens abruptly, wicking the rest of the rivets away. The A/C is blasting through the door. It’s inviting as hell. All I want to do is come in.

  She taps her foot on the floor like some sort of parody, but her voice is rough with no finesse: understandably unfriendly.

  She speaks without a hint of a preamble.

  “Your friends already called here.”

  I nod slowly. “I know.”

  “Not really a fan of guests at this hour. If you knew me at all, you would’ve known to come later.”

  I’m at a loss for words. “I’m… sorry?”

  “Yeah,” she responds. “You should be. In a lot of cases, I’ve glanced at people right from the front window where I knew they could see me. Still didn’t open the door. For you? I just decided to let you sweat it out a bit.”

  I find my voice. “You mean, literally, of course.” I look down at my wet clothing.

  “Hell yeah,” she exclaims, gaining a twinkle in her icy blue eyes. She pauses for a beat, scrutinizing me. She stops tapping her foot.

  “You’re taller than I expected…” she says.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know I’m not supposed to let you in.”

  I tighten my lips together, nodding. “Kat must’a told you, huh?”

  She brushes her blonde bangs to the side, squinting at me. “She said if a gorgeous man comes to the door, don’t let his ass in. Lucky for you, I don’t like to follow rules very much.”

  She steps aside, motioning towards her living room. “Now, get your sweaty ass in here.” I raise an eyebrow but say nothing. If this is her way of rolling out the welcome mat, then I’ll take what I can get.

  Kat’s sister, Elena, is just as petite as she is. I walk past her small frame further into the house, hanging just past the threshold as she closes the door.

  She’s just as blunt as Kat is, and the thought makes me smile. But where Kat has lush brown waterfalls of hair, Elena has a platinum bob. Their features aren’t very similar at all… save for those amazing blue eyes. They’re a dead giveaway.

  Elena locks the door behind us, slinking toward a cream-colored couch.

  “Don’t sit your sweaty ass cheeks on my sofa,” she warns me. “That chair over there should be good enough.”

  The chair she’s pointing at will barely fit me. It seems meant more for punishment than for comfort. She flounces down onto the couch, glaring openly at me. I can see that I’ve been relegated to the “Kindergartener seat.”

  I sit carefully on the small seat of the chair, wiping a forearm across my forehead while I scramble for something to say. I’m having a hard time reconciling the sweet, blonde face of Kat’s sister with the harsh language coming off of her glossy, bubble-gum pink lips.

  Her humor is dry and off-putting. Her wit: sarcastic and scathing. She’s dressed like a prom queen, but she barks like a biker. Her wisecracks would probably send the regular Joe running for the hills, but luckily, I’m well-acquainted with the Lexington women, and I know much better by now.

  I clasp my hands together, hunching over.

  “Listen, Elena, I didn’t want to drag you into this, but I don’t really have a choice at this point. I’ve been looking everywhere for Kat. There are… things I need to tell her. So many things I have to say. And that’s why I’m here. I’m… I’m…”

  I pause. What am I? I sit silently for several seconds, searching for the right word until I find it. I sigh heavily when I do. Damn. I know what I want to say; I’m just too fucking scared to say it.

  “Elena… I’m desperate here. I need help…” Elena scoffs mockingly as if to say “That’s for sure,” but I keep talking.

  “Can you tell me where Kat is?”

  Elena leans further back into the couch cushions, quietly regarding me. I feel like a wanted prisoner standing in front of a harsh and exacting judge. The seconds pass by slowly and while I’m waiting for the final verdict, a blue object on the coffee table catches my eye.

  It’s the planner from the woods. Kat’s planner. Here in Elena’s house, it looks different: misplaced. It’s traveled long and far to get here. And its presence here could only mean one thing.

  “I’ve just missed her, haven’t I?”

  Elena doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yup, she just left.

  “She took off right after your friends came looking, then she circled back around when the coast was clear. She’s gone now… hit the road last night.”

  She leans in closer towards me.

  “Look, Kat told me what you’ve done. I’ve been sitting here since you walked in the door, trying to make a decision about whether or not I should have Ted beat your Richie Rich ass now… or later.”

  I’m thrown off, not expecting this quick turn in conversation.

  “Who’s Ted?” I ask, staring further into the house.

  “He’s my boyfriend. He’s one of those new-age hippies that smokes pot and stares at flowers all day, but he’ll make an exception if I tell him what you’ve done to Kat.”

  I glance at Elena’s sardonic face and then the door. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Kat probably hates me. I’m almost sure her sister does.

  Leaving is almost tempting. I could easily take off. Disappear back to Tampa. Date a woman like Caroline. Leave Kat and this whole ordeal behind me.

  I could settle. I could run… like I have before. Like Kat and I both have.

  And just because we were both heading towards something doesn’t mean we weren’t running from other things: from confrontation, from Tampa… from our lives.

  We really were cowards: both of us. I look back into Elena’s frosty blue eyes, thinking of Kat.

  I don’t want to be a coward anymore.

  I stand up suddenly. “Elena, listen to me… I know what I’ve done. And you can hear me out… help me out… or not… but whatever you do, it isn’t going to stop any show. I’m not giving up on Kat. I’m going to find her and bring her back to where I hope she really wants to be… with me.
>
  “I’m going to give her every piece of me this time and spend however long it takes making it up to her. And if you want to know the truth, I honestly and truly… don’t give a good Goddamn what you or anybody else thinks.

  “I suggest you get used to me coming around. Take that message to Ted while you’re at it.”

  Elena looks at me with wide eyes, her baby-blues incredulous and round-shaped. She stands up from her seat as well, placing her pink-polished fingers on her hips.

  “Well…” she starts out. “You’ve got bigger balls than that ‘no-nuts-having’ Greg, I’ll give you that.”

  I scoff. “Thanks… I guess,” I say dryly. “I’ll see you around, Elena.” I turn to head towards the door.

  She walks quickly around her coffee table, lunging for my arm. When she grabs it, she gives it a little tug.

  “Wait,” she exclaims. She looks around the room as if someone’s watching and then lowers her voice. She sounds softer this time, even sweeter, dare I say.

  “She’s not mad,” Elena states, shrugging sadly. “Just hurt. Really hurt. I’ve never seen her so sad. Mad, yes. I mean, she was livid with Greg before, but not gloomy. I knew she’d recover from that, but this? I’m not so sure…”

  The phone in the house rings suddenly, startling us both. We stare at it simultaneously until the answering machine picks up. An uncomfortable voice comes on the line.

  “Speak of the devil…” Elena says.

  It’s Greg. From the answering machine, I hear: “Kat… Kat, please… If you’re there, pick up. Ok, well, look… I didn’t know exactly how to reach you. You’re hard to get a hold of nowadays… Kat, I have amazing news for you.

  “Journey Life wants to cover your rescue, ok? They want to revisit the Oasis article… because that is where you were going, right? I mean, that’s what you’d always said you’d do. So, call me… when you get a chance.

  “We’ll make this an exclusive! It’ll be fantastic. Ok…? Babe…?”

  He ends the call awkwardly, hanging up before I can grab the phone off the hook and lay into him. “Babe.” He added the last word in for good measure, a final plea to get Kat’s attention.

  He’s trying to sucker her back in, appeal to her emotions. Like hell he could.

  Fucking dirtbag doesn’t care about Kat: just the story and his career. I’m not sure he ever did give two fucks. He’s the one who handed Kat over on a silver platter to the firing squad. Literally.

  “Prick,” Elena spews, practically spitting at the answering machine. Her thoughts mirror my own, and in that moment, we almost bond over our mutual hatred. She’s still holding my arm. She looks up at me.

  “You do what you have to do, Brendon. I must admit… I was testing you a bit… and you passed. And you know what? I like your style,” she says, grinning crookedly.

  “I’ve never seen Kat act this way over any man. And I know my sister. She’s stubborn. She’s strong-willed. She’ll give you hell if you don’t come correctly.”

  I smile. “Elena… I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

  Elena’s grin grows wider. “Good… Kat needs someone who will fight for her. My advice? Keep fighting.”

  She says her last words with emphasis, staring directly into my eyes. She digs her nails deeper into my flesh.

  “But if you ever lie to her again… if you hurt her… you’re going to pay for it. And you won’t have to worry about my dear old Teddy… because I’ll do the job myself… understood?”

  Her eyes are earnest. Her tone is grave… and so is her grip. I nod understandingly, placing a hand on my chest. “You have my word.”

  She nods once, letting my arm go, and I keep walking towards the door. I stop, turning.

  “Elena?” I call out to her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me. Where’s she going?”

  She dawdles for a second near the couch before reaching down towards the coffee table. She trails her fingers over Kat’s blue planner: from one wrinkled edge to the other.

  She picks the agenda up, tossing it at me.

  “She’s going to do what you should do. She’s going to fight.”

  Foxx

  I step out of the parking deck and into the blazing sun.

  I just missed Kat at Elena’s house, but for the first time since she’s been gone, I’m calm, under control.

  I can’t believe I’m back here, where it all began. Standing in front of forty-five stories of glass and steel. The Foxxhole Publishing building.

  Kat’s back in Tampa. She has to be. From what Elena insinuated, she’s come here to kick some ass, maybe take a few names.

  I’m here to do the same.

  But before I make a case to Kat, I have to settle one of my own. And it’s been a long time coming.

  I’ve ditched the suit and tie. I show up to the front doors of Foxxhole Publishing in a white t-shirt and board shorts. It looks like I’m going to go surfing at any moment instead of interrupting a board meeting.

  But that’s exactly what I’m going to do: burst into the boardroom… and start handing out some ass-chewings.

  Security waves me right through when they recognize my face. If they’re at all surprised, they don’t show it. The only person who does is the secretary who caught my flying employee badge on my way out nearly two months ago.

  I push the elevator button for the top floor, standing proudly amidst the sea of suits in the confined glass cage. Surprisingly, I’m enjoying the ride all the way up. Before I can hit the top floor, I press another button.

  While I’m here, I might as well get everything out of the way. I decide to swat an annoying little gnat before I tackle the big fish.

  I exit the elevator on the earlier floor, motioning for the additional guard to let me through the glass partitions. He does, and when I’m through, I give him a small “Thanks” and head past his confused face: making a straight beeline to the corner office.

  The office of Gregory Sears is highly decorated; his ornate walls are as pretentious as his attitude. Framed degrees flank the white walls, and several pictures of Greg among famed politicos and publishing celebrities hang at eye-level around the entire perimeter of the room.

  I’m surprised his office door is even open. Though I’m not very familiar with him, he doesn’t seem to be the type to tolerate any interaction with the rest of the employees. And I can’t imagine that the open door is a gesture of invitation. Especially to me – the boss.

  In fact, I stand at the threshold of his office for several long seconds before he even realizes that I’m there.

  “Oh! Didn’t see you there,” he says, standing: unfurling his body to his full beanpole length. He’s my height, six-two, but he seems almost taller, his thin frame making him seem even more lengthy than he actually is.

  This is the guy that Kat dated?

  I walk towards him, assessing his slick hair and navy suit, before extending my right hand for a shake.

  “Gregory Sears? Just the man I’m looking for. My name is…”

  “Brendon Foxx,” he states, finishing my statement. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  He almost hisses the words like a reptile. I can practically see him licking his chops like an animal on the prowl, sizing up his prey before moving in for the kill.

  Those slick and slimy tricks won’t work on me. He’d have a better chance at success with my father. I already dislike this skinny snake in pinstripes.

  “I wish I could say the same,” I mumble while looking around. I see him frown slightly at what he hears, but he’s a pro… and he manages to keep a straight face. “May I take a seat?”

  “Of course, Mr. Foxx. By all means,” he says. He motions toward the richly upholstered chair in front of his desk, and I immediately rethink our policy concerning office furniture.

  I wish I could sit him in Elena’s Kindergarten chair; it’d make me happy to see this worm squirm.

  “I want to talk to you about Kat Lexington,” I sa
y to him. I watch Greg’s eyes widen by just a fraction and then retract as if nothing has happened.

  “Kat Lexington… Kat Lexington…” he repeats her name over and over as if he’s trying to place her. This cocksucker. He just called her sister’s house two days ago, looking for her.

  I’d like to crack his façade… and his face, right now.

  “Oh, yeah…” he declares, finally. “I remember Kat. She was one of our younger Journey Life writers. Unfortunately, she, uh… parted ways with the company two months ago.” Parted ways. Dickhead.

  “What happened exactly?”

  He shakes his head in mock confusion, but he doesn’t fool me at all. “What do you… what do you mean?”

  “I mean,” I continue, affecting my most business-like tone, “what did you do that resulted in Kat Lexington ‘parting ways’ with the company?”

  He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, fiddling with a pen on his desk. He’s stalling for answers. Keep squirming, worm.

  “Well… she… I… Look, can I be honest with you?”

  “Please do,” I say politely. I’m enjoying this.

  “Kat… she was just wrong for her position: wrong for the company. Everything she did… wrong.” He smirks on the last word. My blood is boiling at this point.

  “So, tell me, Greg. What did Kat Lexington do that was so wrong that she had to be fired?”

  Greg gives an exhausted sigh. “How do I explain this…? You see… Kat’s one of those idealistic, head-in-the-clouds type of writers. She knows nothing about what it takes to be part of a successful magazine. She wants too much from her readership…”

  “…which is exactly what this company needs.”

  He chuckles obnoxiously. “Come on, Brendon. This company doesn’t need readers to think; it needs them to consume. They read, they consume and the advertisers roll in to keep them coming back. It’s simple: the classic business model. Kat just wasn’t the classic businesswoman. She had to go.”

  “And you were only too glad to throw her over to my father…”

  “Look, someone had to be placed on the altar. Times are rough; lay-offs are inevitable. It was only a matter of time, anyway. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, Kat is just a small cog in a big machine. I’m a manager. Big difference.”