Lavish Obsession

by Charlotte Byrd

  She has short-length hair with shine and volume that would make any hair model jealous.

  It never seems to fall flat or get oily or dull.

  Very much unlike my own hair.

  Her embrace is warm and comforting.

  She is probably the one I know the least out of the group, but it’s nice to know that she is cheering me on.

  “As good as can be expected,” I say after she pulls away from me.

  She tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear and gives me a squeeze on my fingers.

  “We were so worried,” Teal says, wrapping her arms around me as well. “I mean, we couldn’t believe that they arrested him like that. And when we saw Mirabelle walk in, you…you looked so—“

  She lets her words go without finishing the sentence.

  She doesn’t need to.

  I don’t remember seeing them at all, but I do know how I felt in that moment.

  “Let’s…um…talk about something else for a second,” I say. “Would that be okay?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” they all say in unison.

  As I head toward the fridge, Olivia intercepts me and asks me what she can make.

  I don’t really know off the top of my head.

  I don’t even know what’s inside.

  I open it and stare at the contents.

  Somehow, this is even less helpful.

  “How about some scrambled eggs with toast and berries? We have some great blueberries and raspberries here,” Olivia suggests.

  I nod with a shrug.

  That sounds as good as anything else.

  As she cooks, the girls make an effort to stay off the topic of Easton.

  But it’s hard.

  This place unites us.

  It’s also not clear where the topic of Easton begins and ends.

  Can they talk about York?

  Can they talk about how they got here?

  And what about their lives now?

  They were all going to be eliminated and then they weren’t.

  The king had announced that they will all be my ladies in waiting, but what about now?

  To avoid all of these topics, they focus on the weather instead.

  After a long discussion of the pros and cons of humidity for the hair and the skin, they shift their forced conversation to the topic of rain.

  “It has been raining quite a lot here, right?” Savannah asks. “Is it always like this?”

  “It usually rains a lot in Florida in the summers,” Teal says.

  “But how far away are we from Florida?” Catalina asks.

  No one responds.

  It’s as if they all stop in their tracks and stare at her.

  I glance at Catalina.

  She freezes in place with the expression of regret.

  She brought the conversation back around to reality, the very thing that we have been trying to avoid.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” I say, breaking the silence. “Let’s not do this.”

  They wait for me to elaborate.

  “Let’s not lie to each other anymore. This place is this den of lies and I can’t stand it anymore.”

  They nod, hanging their heads. Olivia hands me my plate.

  “I’ll start,” I say, digging into the eggs.

  I start in the beginning, where it all began.

  I tell them about how I met Jamie and how he seemed too good to be true.

  Well, little did I know that he was.

  I tell them about the charity event.

  Then I tell them about the spiked drink.

  I tell them about waking up in the dungeons. I don’t sugar coat a thing and I tell them everything.

  Well, almost everything.

  I don’t mention Easton.

  I don’t mention his warnings or his attempts at trying to protect me.

  I don’t know why exactly, except that I’m not ready to share that.

  The girls nod in unison until I get to the dungeon part.

  Then they look surprised.

  “You weren’t down there?” I ask.

  They shake their heads.

  I guess something about what they said here was true.

  “Did you get a gold box invitation?” Teal asks.

  I take a deep breath.

  It’s the moment of truth.

  I decide not to hold anything back.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I just said that because you all said you did so I didn’t want to…raise any suspicions.”

  “I didn’t get one either,” Teal admits. “Did you?”

  Catalina and Olivia and Savannah all nod.

  They tell their stories.

  The broad strokes are all basically a match to mine.

  Mysterious man asks them on a date.

  He looks like a keeper, but he refuses to take things further, sexually.

  It’s an unlikely choice in the contemporary dating world, but they find it endearing just like I did.

  Perhaps, they found a man with a tinge -old-fashioned values to him, they think. Little do they know that he was forbidden from having any sexual contact with them.

  That part is so much less romantic.

  “Why do you think only some of us got gold boxes?” Catalina asks.

  I don’t have a good answer.

  Neither does anyone else.

  But we speculate.

  After coming up with a few possibilities, Savannah suggests that maybe it was just a test.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, this place is all about tests, right? They’re out there analyzing our every move. So, maybe they just threw that in to see if you would both just lie and conform with what all the rest of us said or if you would tell the truth?”

  “I went along with you, so what does that say about me?” I ask.

  “I have no idea,” Savannah says.

  We all shrug and stare at each other.

  “One thing is for sure,” Olivia says. “This place is a complete mind-fuck.”

  Chapter 9 - Everly

  While I make friends…

  There’s something about sharing stories that creates a connection between people.

  As we sit here around the kitchen island, we talk and realize that we are not that different after all.

  I thought that we had similarities before, but it wasn’t until this very moment that I realize that it is our trauma that really binds us to each other.

  When I first got to York, I thought that everyone but me wanted to be here.

  I thought it was their dream come true, but how wrong I was.

  They all thought the same as well and so we all kept silent. We all kept our secrets to ourselves.

  It was probably the right thing to do at the time, but it feels good to come clean now.

  There is still one thing that I want to ask them, and I hope that they tell me the truth. I take a deep breath before diving in.

  “What about Abbott?”

  “What about him?” Teal asks.

  I take another breath and then tell them what happened when I got into my room.

  They listen silently without a single response.

  When I’m finished, Savannah starts to cry.

  Teal wraps her arms around her and Catalina presses up against her as well.

  “He did the same thing to me,” Savannah confesses.

  “Me, too,” the other two add. We all hang our heads as we take a moment to commiserate.

  The details of what happened to each of us vary, but the broad strokes are the same. The only difference being that the others didn’t fight him off.

  Their faces are scrunched up with regret.

  “I just got so scared,” Savannah says.

  “Me, too. I just froze,” Catalina says.

  Teal nods along.

  “It was probably a good thing,” I say and tell them what happened to me.

  They listen, and this time reach out to comfort me.

  We hold ea
ch other for a few moments until I pull away.

  There is so much left unsaid in this conversation and yet these details aren’t that important to fill in.

  We all know that Abbott is the devil incarnate and we don’t need to relive everyone’s experience to confirm this.

  “I have to tell you something,” Teal says after a moment. “I heard some of the staff talking about Easton and you and what is going to happen.”

  I nod and wait for her to continue

  “They were saying that if Easton is convicted, then you might have to marry Abbott.”

  Her eyes search mine for a sign that I understand, but my face remains expressionless. I stare into space.

  I came here to make friends and to hear rumors, but this is not the knowledge that I want to hear.

  I want to hear something else. I want them to tell me that nothing bad is going to happen. I want them to tell me that Mirabelle is wrong.

  “Everly?” Olivia asks. “Are you okay?”

  I take a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “That’s what Mirabelle told me, too.”

  “You have to think positively,” Olivia says. “Easton didn’t kill anyone, and he’s not going to get convicted.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” I say.

  Unfortunately, the tone of my voice is hardly convincing.

  “He didn’t do it, right?” Teal asks.

  I look at her with a blank stare.

  “Right?” Savannah asks.

  “No, he didn’t,” I say definitively. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  They may be my new friends, but I am not foolish enough to share how I really feel about this.

  In truth, I am not sure.

  I’m not sure of anything anymore.

  What if Easton did do it?

  What if he did it before he ever asked me to marry him?

  He told me he didn’t.

  He told me that we had nothing to worry about, but now I have doubts.

  Now, I’m questioning everything.

  “Why do they think he did it?” Olivia asks.

  I don’t know if they know about Alicia and I’m not sure if I should tell them.

  Despite my best efforts to open up, I find it difficult to open up completely. I’ve shared my story, but Alicia’s story is not mine to share.

  This place is still dark and dangerous, and I need every speck of ammunition I can get.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and shake my head. “I have no idea why they would arrest him.”

  Fearing that this is not enough information, I decide to give them something else and delve into the details of his arrest.

  As I lay it all out there, all the details of our shower scene and everything that went down, I watch their reaction.

  They hang on every word.

  “I can’t believe they barged in on you…like that,” Savannah finally says after I finish.

  “I had no idea what was going on,” I say. “That’s why I was a little out of it afterward.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agrees, again putting her hand around my shoulder. “And then, when Mirabelle came to my room and told me what might happen if he is found guilty, I just couldn’t deal with being alone anymore.”

  Catalina, Teal, and Olivia come over and drape themselves around me as well.

  It feels false to say this to some degree, but deep down what I’m saying is true.

  I’ve come to think of these women as my friends and I want their support and love.

  I need it actually.

  To make it out of here alive, I will need a lot more than that.

  As they continue to talk among themselves, my thoughts quickly return to Easton.

  How is he?

  How is he feeling?

  Are they hurting him?

  What is he doing right now?

  Will I ever see him again?

  Will we ever be together again?

  And, of course, did he do it?

  Part Three

  Chapter 10 - Easton

  When the attorney comes in…

  In the morning, with my breakfast, the guard tells me that my attorney is going to come to see me in the afternoon and suddenly the day starts to drag on.

  Over the last few days, I’ve gotten used to just sitting here and letting my thoughts wander around in circles, and now, suddenly, I have something to look forward to.

  Having never come in contact with the justice system here at York, or anywhere else for that matter, I didn’t know who I was supposed to contact when I asked for an attorney.

  So, the officers gave me a list of names and I called the number right in the middle.

  The guy who showed up wasn’t much to look at and seemed to be afraid of his own shadow.

  He stayed with me when they questioned me, saying very little on my behalf. HIs only piece of advice was to keep my mouth shut, which I already knew.

  Not knowing who else to contact, I requested another person from the list. Third name down.

  John Madden Thompson.

  And that’s who is going to come see me today.

  When the guards come to get me, they put shackles around my legs and handcuffs around my hands.

  No one speaks as we walk down the long hallway, illuminated by hard white light, and the only sound that echoes around is the sound of metal I make with each step.

  I’m supposed to feel thankful for the fact that they put the handcuffs on my hands in the front rather than the back, but I don’t.

  They lead me through a set of double doors, which each have to be opened one at a time, and then into a large conference room.

  The lighting is pleasant here, with natural light streaming in through the large windows. They place me near one, and I watch as the palm tree outside sways in the wind.

  I close my eyes and imagine the feel of the breeze on my face and the taste of the salt in the air.

  I run my fingers over the table and linger on the natural grain of the wood.

  All the ones in my cell are made of hard plastic, and I have almost forgotten how nice it feels to touch something natural, something which was once alive.

  Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to myself in this place.

  Just as I stare at the sunlight wrapping itself around the long, tattered leaves of the palm tree, the door at the far end of the room opens and a guard walks in, followed by a large imposing man with pepper gray hair.

  He is dressed in a heavy suit, which belongs more in the cold Connecticut winter than it does on this Caribbean island in the middle of the summer.

  When the man gets closer, I see the beads of sweat that are rolling off his large forehead and the redness of his cheeks.

  “Easton?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

  I nod.

  He extends his hand, and when I don’t reach out mine fast enough, he grabs for it, practically forcing his handshake on me.

  “You can call me Tiger,” he says, putting down his briefcase and loosening his tie.

  “Tiger?”

  “My real name is John Madden Thompson, but everyone calls me Tiger,” he explains without really offering much of an explanation.

  Tiger seems to be kind of an inappropriate name for someone in their mid-fifties, but what the hell do I know?

  It takes Tiger a few moments to get organized.

  He opens his briefcase, takes out some files, gets out a pen, and pulls out a yellow legal pad.

  Then he turns his attention to me.

  “Tell me everything,” he says.

  I stare at him and shake my head a little.

  “I’m not sure where you want me to start.”

  “In the beginning.”

  “What do you know already?”

  “Let’s say I know nothing.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “Easton, I may know some things, but that should be none of your concern. I am here to listen to your version.”

  “You mean th
e truth, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” he says, but I don’t believe him.

  “What about…?” I let my words trail off and point to the recording equipment all around us.

  “It’s turned off.”

  I don’t know if I believe him, but what choice do I have.

  I can say nothing and this meeting won’t go anywhere.

  “How do you know?”

  “I watched them turn it off.”

  “They could’ve turned it back on again,” I insist.

  Tiger opens his briefcase and turns it to face me. Inside, I see small recording microphones and wires.

  “You are the only prisoner in this area,” he says. “I made sure they took it all down.”

  Satisfied, I give him a nod.

  “I am not an idiot, Easton. I am here to help.”

  I shake my head again and inhale deeply.

  “They think I killed Dagger,” I say after a moment. “But I didn’t. I really wanted to, especially after I found out that my father had ordered him to kill Alicia, but I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrug. “Honestly, I was biding my time. Plus, I wanted to keep Everly safe.”

  The longer I talk, the more I open up to him.

  I don’t have many cards to play, so if he turns on me, then so what?

  I’m pretty much already a doomed man.

  But something tells me that he’s not going to.

  Tiger listens and nods his head and takes copious notes.

  At first, I find it unnerving to have someone write down almost every word you say, but after a bit, I hardly notice it at all.

  Instead, I just open my mouth and talk.

  I tell him about Alicia, and I tell him about our plans.

  “What were you going to do after you left?” Tiger interrupts me. “Were you planning on reporting on what’s going on here?”

  Chapter 11 - Easton

  While he presses me…

  I stare at him. What does he know exactly?

  “I know, Easton. I know about the competitions. I know how the king picks his wives every other year.”

  “You do?” I whisper.

  He nods and asks me about our plans again. All doubts about whether or not this place is bugged vanish from my mind.

  He would never ask anything like that or admit anything like that to me if he still had an inkling that our conversation was being listened to.