unStrapped

by Nina G. Jones

  Taylor’s phone rings and he has a very brief business conversation on the phone.

  “Did I tell you I have a new assistant?” Taylor mentions once he ends the call.

  “No…you mean someone to replace me?”

  “Yes, and I think this person is here to stay. Finally, someone competent,” Taylor jests.

  I scowl at him. “How long?”

  “It’s been a few weeks now. Right around the time of—the time you were taken.” This has happened a few times since Taylor killed Eric. We both have trouble labeling that time period. Every possible identifier is wildly inappropriate in public or brings on a sense of uneasiness.

  What should we call it?

  Right around the time you shot your brother to death.

  When we found out your crazy brother who kidnapped me, was engaged to your ex sub.

  About the time when you learned your ex-sub drove off a bridge to her death with your future niece or nephew in her womb.

  It happened about a few days after I had that nervous breakdown, triggered by my rape, newfound daddy-issues, and witnessing a killing.

  It’s little things like that that remind me that we will forever have a burden that hangs over us. Taylor has assured me more times than I can count that Eric will never be found. That nothing can link us to the crime. That law enforcement doesn’t even know anything happened because they are busy putting out international warrants for Eric’s arrest. But we have so much to lose, and now that the guilt has started to dull, the fear of being caught before I can spend the rest of my life with Taylor has sharpened.

  “Oh?” I say, realizing he would have told me then if I had been willing to listen. “So tell me about your new assistant.”

  Taylor pauses for a moment while looking through his iPad. “My assistant? I don’t know much about her…Her name is Ivanka.” He says it with a little extra perk in his voice.

  “Ivanka?” The name sounds suspiciously sexy.

  “Yeah. She has an MBA from Kellogg, speaks German. Very intelligent.”

  “Does she?”

  “Yes. She used to be a gymnast, which is interesting because she is rather tall and busty. You know, not what you’d expect from a gymnast. But I guess that makes sense considering she paid her way through college by being part of the Hawaiian Tropic Bikini Team and doing some underwear modeling on the side…”

  I listen to his description of Ivanka, my mouth agape. Taylor pauses and looks down to make eye contact after he finishes telling me how he had told human resources that she needed to wear looser clothing and that a bra was absolutely essential because her nipples were hard all day. His expression is oddly oblivious and then a mischievous smirk emerges.

  “There is no Ivanka, is there?”

  “No,” he shakes his head faintly, holding his slanted grin.

  “You are such a jerk!” I sit up, gasping a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I had become listening to the story. Taylor laughs at my reaction.

  “I couldn’t help it. It’s too easy with you sometimes.”

  “Well I am going to hire a pool boy, let’s see how that goes!”

  “I have had the same pool guy for about seven years and he has a patch of hair on his shoulder to rival the amount on his head. He does however, offer splendid views of his crack. So good luck with that.”

  “No hot assistants!” I point at Taylor.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I do. But if I can’t see you when you are in the office, I’ll be damned if any other pretty woman will.”

  “His name is Clark. My assistant. Clark is a very nice young man with a girlfriend. Not a thing to worry about, my love. Anyway, the reason Clark called was to finalize some plans for a fundraiser. It’s an annual gala to raise money for the Holden Foundation, the family charity. And I would like you to join me, fiancée.”

  “Well, now that we are properly affianced, it is my duty.”

  “There’s more. The Holden Foundation funnels money to different charitable organizations that we vet. So each year we pick a focus for our gala. And this year, you inspired the selection.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, shortly after I hired you, I decided upon it. I kept you out of the loop, which was difficult, considering you pretty much knew everything on my schedule at the time. But, I thought I would surprise you with it. I had no idea at the time I would be surprising my future wife.” He smirks, and I blush.

  “What is it?”

  “This year the money raised at the gala, along with a donation from the Holden Foundation, will fund art and technology programs in underfunded public schools throughout the US. We estimate that we will save or start 1500 art and technology programs from the total money we pledge. That’s a lot of children who will have access to those things because of you, Shy.”

  My heart floods with warmth and I am overcome with emotion. “Taylor, I don’t know what to say. That is amazing. You don’t understand how happy this makes me. When I was a kid, even going through really hard times, art was the thing that made me so happy. All I ever asked my mother for on my birthday or holidays was for pastels, and paint, and supplies.”

  “I know Shy. I know how much art means to you. I remember the day I decided. It was when I thought you had an accident rushing to work after you had overslept. You worked late and ate dinner at my house. When you left, I felt something I hadn’t felt before. And I felt inspired to do something that wasn’t as trivial as buying you clothes. It’s like I had to convert the feelings I had for you into something else just as good. That’s when I knew I felt something special towards you. Maybe one day, only if you want, you could work with the Holden Foundation. We have a department that selects the education programs we donate to every year.”

  “I would love to work with the family foundation,” I say, wrapping my arms around Taylor’s neck, softly kissing him on the lips. “Thank you,” I whisper lovingly as I look into his eyes. “I am so touched by this. And I will be so honored to stand by you at the fundraiser.”

  “Ain’t no gala like a Shyla Ball gala,” Taylor says, deadpan. He’s right, everyone says they had never seen Taylor so at ease as when I was by his side in St. Petersburg.

  “What about you Taylor? I know you say you just donate, that you don’t feel anything. But you have had to make these decisions before I came along. What have you chosen in the past?”

  Taylor looks up as he thinks. “It varies. We focus mostly on a few sectors: education, the environment, clean water initiatives, and hunger. But there is one thing that I have chosen to fund individually. I don’t use the Holden Foundation to support it. Mainly because I have to distance myself from it. My contributions are always anonymous. It’s an organization that helps those who have escaped from cults or abusive homes get back on their feet.”

  The radiating happiness in my heart melts into a warm sadness. The man who stands in front of me was once a little boy who could not be saved in time. But now that little boy has become a powerful man who can help save others.

  “I’d like to help with that too, if you’d allow.”

  ““Ce qui est à moi est à toi,” Taylor says, resting his forehead against mine. “There are two more things we need to discuss before we land,” his tone becomes unexpectedly official.

  “Okay…”

  “First, and this is the last we ever have to talk about this, you need to call Detective Acosta to follow up on your case.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Eric is still out there,” Taylor says in a tone that indicates the usage of air quotes, “and like any angry victim, you want answers.”

  “Isn’t there another way around this? Can’t you do it?”

  “I don’t think he likes me.”

  “Since when have you cared about that?”

  “I don’t. I am being practical, you are a pretty little thing. He’s going to want to comfort you. He doesn’t want some rich man barking at him. People
skills, Shyla. I get people to do things for me, it’s what I do. Part of that is knowing the best approach. Answering directly to the victim is going to put him in a softer position. Whether or not he acts like it, I will put him on the defensive.”

  “You and your manipulations.” Taylor merely raises an eyebrow slyly. “Fine, but once and that’s it.”

  “That’s all we need. He’ll have nothing, and you’ll ask him to call you with any developments.”

  “Number two.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said two things. For fuck’s sake, if that was number one, what’s number two?”

  “The plane is landing in Massachusetts in two hours.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “After you call Acosta, you should call your mother and let her know we’ll be arriving into Logan shortly and we’ll be staying at the Hilton just by her home. If she did want to go out to dinner, I have made arrangements. You can thank my new assistant, Clark for arranging that.”

  Chapter 16

  “Hi Detective Acosta. This is Shyla Ball…it’s been a while since I have heard about any developments on the case. I was wondering if you could let me know if you or the other departments you are working with have made progress. I understand you have a lot on your plate, but I at least need to know if he is still out of the country so I can feel safe. Thank you.”

  I gasp as I end the call on my phone. Not revisiting Eric’s death has allowed me to take steps forward in my life. But this farce of a call is a stark reminder that this may be something I will never be able to fully leave behind.

  “Alright. I left him a voicemail. So happy he didn’t answer,” I say to Taylor.

  “Perfect. As long as he thinks you care about finding Eric. If he calls back, and I believe he will, be stern but understanding. He will reassure you that he will let you know if he has any developments, you will beg him to do so, but let him know you want to move on with your life and part of that will be forgetting about Eric. Then you will beg him to only remind you if he has re-entered the country. And of course he will enthusiastically agree to do so.”

  “I’m scared, Taylor. What if he starts to dig?”

  “Shyla, I say this not to be harsh, or because I agree with the system…but your case is one of many. While I am sure his intentions are good, the level of attention he would need to pay to this case to uncover anything would be all-consuming. This is not TV. He would need a break. And I am not worried about him finding any. They are looking for a rapist on the run named Eric, not a dead man in the US named Evan. We are going to be fine. He’s gone, and no one is going to hurt you, ever again.”

  I sit down in the seat across from Taylor and let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re right.”

  “The only people who can get us in trouble is us. That’s why we don’t utter a word of this ever. To anyone but each other.”

  “Of course,” I say, almost offended that Taylor had to remind me. “I guess I should call my mother. I can’t believe this is about to happen.”

  “I figured we’d visit her while we were already traveling. And it’s only right that she finds out before our friends. I really don’t want a pissed-off future mother in law.”

  I smile at his hint of humor. “How are you feeling about this? I couldn’t even get you to consider this a month or two ago.”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think this past month. The things that have happened have changed my perspective. Am I looking forward to it? No. But, if I am going to be with you, I understand this is something that I need to do. And, she deserves my appreciation.”

  “Thank you. I think this is important for you too.” Taylor doesn’t say anything, but doubtfully angles an eyebrow.

  I dial my mother’s number and she answers on the second ring.

  “Shyla?”

  “Yes mom, it’s me.”

  “It’s so good to hear your voice. I have been worried sick.”

  “I wish you hadn’t called Kristin, you put thoughts in her head. I am fine.”

  “Honey, she called me and I returned her call. She said you wouldn’t answer her calls, that you had abruptly left your job. That’s not like you.”

  “Who am I really?” I ask, immediately regretting the snark. “Look mom, let’s just forget about all that. I am fine, I spoke with Kristin. I decided to to do some traveling and reevaluate everything.”

  “How are you feeling? Did you go with Taylor?” The way she utters his name is thick with emotion.

  “Yes mom. We went together. And before we go on, I called for a reason.”

  “Okay. What’s that?”

  “What are your plans tonight?”

  “Tonight? I, uh, not much, I was going to grab groceries after work for dinner.”

  “Well, cancel that, because I am on my way.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes and Taylor is coming with me.” There is a gasp and a long pause on the phone. “Mom?”

  “Yes,” she chokes out.

  “Is this okay? Do you not want us to come?”

  “No! Yes, yes, it is more than okay. I just can’t believe it. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to me, let alone Taylor.”

  “There’s a lot to talk about mom. A lot of catching up.”

  “Okay.”

  “We scheduled for a car to pick you up form your apartment at 6:30 to come to our hotel. I thought a private setting would be best, but we can order room service.”

  “Why don’t you both come over? I want to make dinner for you. We can have a nice family dinner,” she says, the jagged sound of emotion in her voice starting to smooth.

  “Sure. Since we are coming on such short notice, we didn’t want to invite ourselves over.”

  “You know I love to cook. And I think home is the best place for us to meet. I will always consider Taylor family.”

  “Okay,” I say smiling to myself because she doesn’t know yet that Taylor will soon be officially family. “We’ll see you soon, mom.”

  “I love you honey.”

  “I love you too, mom.”

  ***

  The drive to my mother’s is tense and quiet. Why shouldn’t it be? I can’t think of a more momentous reunion. It’s not just a mother seeing her daughter for the first time since confessing her lifelong lies. It’s a woman meeting the little boy whose life she saved, her daughter and that boy announcing their wedding engagement. It’s a daughter telling her mother that her best friend is alive after years of presuming her dead, and a man being forced to confront a past he has spent his entire life avoiding.

  “Taylor?” I ask softly, admiring the amber glow of the street lamps on his freshly shaven face.

  “Yes?”

  “I have to tell my mother about your mother. I assume you know that, but I didn’t want to ambush you. I can’t wait any longer. She has a right to know too.”

  “I figured it was a possibility. Do you think this is the right time?”

  “Is there ever a right time?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I know it seems odd, but I think having you there will make it better. She has wanted to meet you so badly. And there is no one more affected by your mother’s fleeing than you.”

  “I’m fine actually.”

  “Taylor, I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean that you are Lyla’s son. A mother’s actions will always impact her children most profoundly.”

  “I think having you back is what is most important to your mother.”

  I nod in acceptance. “We are the only people who can understand what the other might be going through. Your dad knows some of what happened, but he didn’t come from it like we did.” Taylor nods. “This is going to make for a very interesting wedding. I am not sure your dad will even be thrilled with this engagement to begin with.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Oh come on, I told you what he said to me. I think he thinks he has worked too hard get you away from C.O.S only for you to end up with
another C.O.S alum.”

  “You let me take care of my father.” Taylor sighs, running his fingers through his hair and disheveling its perfect coif. “And I will let you take care of your mother as you see fit. If you need to tell her tonight, you have my support. We might as well get it all over with.”

  The car slows to a halt. “We’re here,” I say. My heart flutters, my stomach tightens. I reach out and clench Taylor’s hand and take a deep breath.

  “Let’s fucking do this,” he says.

  Chapter 17

  I lead Taylor down the hall to my mother’s apartment; the aroma of her cooking wafting in the corridor would guide me there even if I was blindfolded. She buzzed us in, and as protocol, I know she has likely left the door unlocked for us to let ourselves in, but just walking in like some routine visit feels so unceremonious. I take one last look at Taylor. His expression is cool, but his body is rigid. My stomach feels heavy and the feeling carries all the way up to the back of my throat.

  This is a happy reunion. I try and remind myself. But it’s not that simple. This happiness won’t come without digging up a lot of pain. I am beginning to think that all happiness comes with pain.

  “Are you good?” I ask Taylor who is standing just to the right of the threshold.

  He nods. “Go ahead.”

  “I love you,” I mouth to him.

  He nods again.

  I ring the doorbell. Within seconds the door swings open. Looking ahead, my mother can only see me, and she embraces me harder than I can ever remember her doing. “I am so happy you’re here,” she whispers in my ear. But the hug is over quickly. I am not the star of this show. She has been able to hug me thousands of times, she has watched me grow up. Even after she told me about my father, I assured her I would be back, I just needed time. She never really lost me. The person who all of this centers around is Taylor, the boy she thought she would never see again. She looks up at the elegant, statuesque man beside me. He is everything her and Lyla could have hoped he would become: healthy, handsome, and successful. At least, that’s what he appears to be.