Shallow

by Cora Kenborn

  I hope Taryn is pissing in her designer panties right now.

  “Ah, Dax, come on in.” I motion him inside and he lumbers his way over to us, not giving her a second glance. I slap him on the back. “It seems our mutual friend, Taryn, is having a slight memory problem. Why don’t you jog it for her?”

  Dax finally looks at Taryn, and all the money in the world couldn’t buy the expression on her face. Because it’s fucking priceless.

  “My mom works for Taryn’s uncle in at the health department,” he begins, his voice surprisingly steady for a boy about to confess to some serious shit. “She knew you ran the center here and said I should come check it out. She talked to Mr. McDaniel about it and he told Taryn to hook me up with some mentoring or something. I said, “That’s cool.” I heard y’all had a ring and did some MMA shit up in here.”

  “Get to the good part, dude,” Frankie whispers.

  Dax nods. “Yeah, so instead of bringing me here because I don’t have a car or nothing, Taryn said she could get my mom a raise and then threw a shit ton of cash at me as long as I did some stuff for her.”

  “What stuff?” I prompt him.

  He shrugs. “Fuck with some chick. Scare her a little. But shit got real when she made me score her a lot of weed and dump it in that chick’s bag.”

  “So why tell the truth now? I mean, you’re incriminating yourself as well.”

  “Because my mom didn’t get the raise, for one. Look, man, I might do a lot of bad shit, but I’m not gonna bus roll an innocent girl. Taryn told me this chick killed her best friend, but she didn’t tell me it was an accident.” He spins to face Taryn, his stare deadly. “I’m no executioner, bitch. You’re on your own.”

  Taryn’s eyes blaze with fire. “You fucking traitor.”

  “Call me whatever you want,” Dax says, glaring back at her. “I’m not going down for this by myself just because you got dumped.”

  Fake tears well in Taryn’s eyes. “It’s still my word against his! Whose word do you think people are going to believe, a McDaniel or an uneducated punk?”

  “They’re going to believe ours.”

  Everyone turns as Will steps through the doorway, closely followed by two uniformed police officers. Both Taryn and I are about to jump out of our skins but for two different reasons. I’ve been living for this moment since Frankie picked up the phone to call her. Taryn, however, looks like she’s about to puke up every meal she’s eaten since junior high.

  The first officer pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his belt and moves in behind her. “Miss McDaniel, please put your hands behind your back.”

  “Fuck you!” she growls over her shoulder.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” Amidst heated curses and protests, he cuffs her hands and begins reading her rights.

  “You can’t do this!” she screams, jerking against the metal cuffs. “This will never stand up in court. It’s entrapment.”

  I study Will’s face. It’s hard. Deep lines that weren’t there before set across his forehead and around his mouth. He looks like he hasn’t slept any more than I have, and that’s saying something. It’s obvious he cares about Shiloh and her arrest has worn on him almost as much as me. It makes me feel like a real shit for the way I’ve treated him for being her friend.

  I have a lot to make up for when this is over.

  “Actually,” he says with a satisfied smirk, “we have an accomplice, an eye-witnesses, and can pull phone records to verify the call you made to police the night of the arrest. I’m pretty sure it will.”

  Dax doesn’t say a word. He simply turns around and crosses his hands behind his back, waiting for the second officer to cuff him. He knew when we asked him to come here tonight that he wouldn’t walk out on his own, even with Will’s assumption of judicial leniency. I guess a clear conscience is more important to him than freedom.

  Relieved, I slump against my desk as they’re both led out of my office. Just as I close my eyes, the shuffling at the door stops, and I glance up to see Taryn staring at me, her face blank but her eyes filled with confusion.

  “You did this all for her? Why? What did she ever do for you?”

  I smile, knowing the only answer I give is one she’ll never truly understand.

  “She loved Lawn Boy,” I say as the door closes behind her.

  Thirty-Five

  Shiloh

  Even in jail, I’m not a morning person. Which is unfortunate, because guards tend to not give a shit about things like that. At six o’clock in the morning, I’m expected to make my bed, shower, and finish breakfast in a span of forty-five minutes.

  At promptly seven fifteen, I’m escorted back to that godforsaken tiny ass room where Bianca is sitting with my phone clutched in her hand.

  “Mother?” I call out to her as the guard uncuffs me and closes the door behind him.

  “I wasn’t snooping,” she rasps, her voice broken by an obvious lack of sleep. “Your friend, Frankie, gave me your phone. I’ve kept it charged for you and it kept going off last night. Then I got a phone call. You need to read it.”

  Although I don’t want to know, something forces me to ask anyway. “What’s happened?”

  She doesn’t answer, instead, pushes the phone across the table, turning it around so I can see the text that’s lit up and staring me right in the face.

  MONEY SUCKER: The bank froze your personal account. They’ve sent multiple notices claiming someone forged a nine thousand dollar check out of your account. This idiot dumped it right into his personal one instead of cashing it. His own bank held the deposit and flagged an alert. Carrick Kincaid needs a white collar crime lesson.

  Bile rises in my throat as I read the second text.

  MONEY SUCKER: Oh, and my asshole assistant came by to beg for his job back and heard me on the phone with your mother. He decided to get his revenge for getting fired by going public. I’m sorry.

  Thirty-Six

  Cary

  By mid-morning the next day, the news of Taryn’s arrest has already spread beyond the passing interest of our community. Gossip about the daughter of a local prominent family getting arrested is mildly entertaining to the people who grew up here. However, once Shiloh’s name is tossed into the mix, all hell breaks loose. National news stories are popping up faster than I can change the channel, and I’ve had to shut down the community center in order to protect the boys’ privacy.

  Still, even with the media explosion, nothing can tank my mood today. Will broke protocol and texted me well into the night and all morning, updating me on what was happening with Taryn. Apparently, after the third hour of interrogation, she cracked and admitted to everything.

  So, here I am, my stomach in knots and exhilarated at the same time. From what Will says, Shiloh’s going to be cleared of all charges today. I’m going down there, and I’m not leaving until she sees me.

  It’s time to lay all my cards on the table. I promised her a clean slate and she’s going to get it. Maybe she’ll forgive me for what I’ve done. Maybe she won’t. But at least I’ll be able to walk out of that room with a clear conscience.

  Grabbing my keys, I’m about to close the door to my apartment when a text alert chimes on my phone.

  WILL: Taryn talked to a lawyer this morning.

  I balance my keys in my mouth as I type back a quick response.

  ME: And I should give a shit…why?

  WILL: She told him everything about what you two planned to do to Shiloh.

  ME: She can’t prove anything.

  WILL: No, but he’s twisting it into a not guilty defense that she was coerced by your revelations of what Shiloh did to you seven years ago. I wish you’d confided in me, Cary. You need to get ready for a shitstorm of bad press.

  I should’ve seen this coming a mile away. The McDaniels have the shadiest motherfucker to ever take the bar exam on retainer. Of course she’d try to pin this on me.

  ME: Again, she has no proof, and I’ve already served my time. Shiloh d
id nothing. Case closed.

  WILL: Most likely, but that’s not all. Have you checked the headlines this morning?

  ME: No. Why would I do that?

  WILL: Just look. What the hell have you done now?

  There’s that feeling when you’re on a rollercoaster, when you turn the corner right before the huge drop. Your stomach tenses because you know what’s coming. That’s what it feels like as I pull up my search engine and type in the name for our local news station. As soon as I click on the link and read the headline, the floor drops out from under me.

  Owner of Local Community Center Accused of Allegedly Embezzling Money From Fallen Model

  Thirty-Seven

  Shiloh

  “He’s been here all day, Shiloh,” Will says as we wait for the paperwork to process. “Can’t you just give him five minutes? It’s not like you can avoid him forever. He’s still your boss, you know.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I yell. I promised myself I’d try to keep my composure, but I don’t care anymore.

  Do I know that he’s still my boss?

  Hell, it’s the only thing I can think about. How am I’m going to walk into work every day and face him? The man who held me in his arms and swore I’d never belong to anyone else. The man who risked everything to drag secrets out of Taryn while hiding his own behind meaningless words and cheap sex.

  See, there’s a difference in my evil and his. My immorality happens in the heat of the moment. I strike and forget, moving on like a bee flying from flower to flower. His immorality is calculated. Designed to inflict maximum pain and torture at just the right moment. He’s patient enough to wait seven years for it. Even if his conscience got the better of him in the final hour, it doesn’t erase the scars he’s left. I may have caused my own scar, but he’s inflicted a deeper one.

  Will sinks back into his chair and crosses his arms. “If you won’t talk to him, how do you plan on communicating when you go back to the Kincaid Center? Sign language?”

  “Hand gestures,” I answer, lifting my middle finger.

  He raises his palms. “Enough, I got it.” A few awkward moments of silence pass before he reaches into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and produces a plain white envelope. “Look, he had a feeling you’d do this, so he gave me this.” Giving it one shake in the air, he tosses it on the table in front of me.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “He’s still protecting you, you know. Taryn’s accusations of what you did are running rampant and he refuses not to claim guilt for it. If you won’t see him, at least hear him out.” I’m so mesmerized by the envelope, I don’t hear him stand and walk out.

  Ten minutes later, I’m still staring at the letter like it’s a venomous snake ready to strike. It’s just a simple white envelope with my name scribbled across the front. I know it’s his handwriting because it’s choppy and frantic with sharp edges.

  I have every intention on walking out of the room with that unopened letter still sitting on that table. I don’t want to know what he has to say. I don’t care.

  Except I do.

  I rip open the envelope and the simple sheet of notebook paper is unfolded and in my shaking hands before I can stop myself.

  Dear Starshine,

  I told you a long time ago that whether you want me to or not, I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall. If you’re reading this letter, I guess you’ve forgotten that.

  I was hoping to be able to do this in person, but I’ll just have to try to explain myself as best I can and hope you understand why I did what I did.

  First of all, don’t worry about Taryn. I’ll never corroborate her story. I didn’t keep my mouth shut for seven years to break my silence now.

  Next, stealing the money is inexcusable. I don’t expect you to ever understand why I did it because I don’t even understand. I was desperate. I didn’t tell you because I was trying to find a way to return it, so I didn’t have to admit to being a thief. Stupid, huh?

  However, my biggest regret is not telling you what Taryn and I had planned when you came back to town. The truth is, I was ashamed. For seven years, I blamed you for everything that was wrong in my life and dreamed about the day I’d make you pay for it. But when you came back to town, my head got all mixed up. Taryn saw an opportunity to settle a score with you and fed into the shit going on in my head. I treated you badly, and I can’t take that back. But I promise that once I found out how far she was willing to take it, I bailed.

  Do you know why? Because I fell in love with you all over again. I don’t know what power you have over me, but I’ve gone from loving you to hating you, back to loving you. I meant it when I called you mine. You are mine, Shiloh. No matter what you tell yourself, no other man will ever have all of you. Because it’s mine. It always will be.

  If you still never want to speak to me again, I’ll make Frankie your contact at the center and I’ll stay out of your way. But we all make mistakes, Shy. We all ask for forgiveness. Some of us are lucky enough to get it. You were. Maybe I’ll be too.

  Love,

  Cary

  His name smears as two tears roll down my cheeks and hit his signature. Letting out a shaky breath, I ball up the letter and bang on the door until it opens.

  * * *

  “Are you ready, darling?” Bianca touches my arm, and I smile. The gesture reminds me of a similar moment ten months ago when she stood beside me outside a Los Angeles County courtroom. Only then, I cringed at her touch, rolling my eyes at her attempt to play the doting mother for the cameras. Now, there’s a closeness between us that radiates from her face. It’s warm—genuine even.

  Bianca West is proof that people can change. Maybe that means there’s hope for me.

  “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding and straightening my dress. I notice it’s white, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she brought me the same virginal dress she made me wear during my trial on purpose. Back then she insisted white emphasized my innocence.

  I wonder what it emphasizes now.

  We stand between Will and a few armed police officers in front of the front door of the building. After four days, on the other side of that glass stands my freedom, along with a mob of angry protestors and news vans and paparazzi cameras as far as the eye can see. A small part of me wonders if the safety of a jail cell is better than trying to maneuver my way through them with my limbs intact.

  As the guard in front of us opens the door, I take one step toward freedom and right into a hard chest. “Go away,” I whisper, my hands pressed flat against him.

  He places his hands over the top of mine, holding me in place. “You’re not going out there until you talk to me.”

  An officer steps forward, his hand on his gun. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to let the lady go.”

  Cary’s eyes never leave mine. “Not on your life.”

  “Cary…” Will warns.

  “Stay out of this, Will. This is between Shiloh and me.”

  “Take a look around you, man,” Will says, gesturing to the multitude of armed police officers. “If you don’t listen, this is going to be between you and the Myrtle Beach Police Department.”

  Cary’s quiet for a moment, then presses harder against my hands. “I gave you two years, Shiloh. Can you give me two minutes?”

  As much as I want to scream at him, his words stab me. I can’t fight them. He’s right. “Fine. You have two minutes.”

  “Can we go somewhere private?”

  “I’m Shiloh West.” I smirk. “Nothing I do is private.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Shy…”

  “One minute thirty seconds.”

  He curses under his breath. “Will says he gave you my letter. Did you read it.”

  “I did.”

  “I won’t ask for your answer right now. I know you need some time to process everything. I lied, and you’re furious, I get that. I can’t get into my account right now, but I swear I’ll get the money back
to you.” He lowers his voice and glances toward one of the officers. “Provided they don’t arrest me right now.”

  “Seriously, Cary? You think this is about the money? I don’t give a shit about that. Nine thousand is nothing to me. I’ve already disputed the embezzlement charges against you. And as for you lying to me? I’m the last one who should be your judge and executioner. That’d be hypocritical, don’t you think?” Pulling my hands away from his hold, I nod to Will. “Let’s go.”

  We walk as an entourage toward the door almost in slow motion. The minute we step outside, blinding paparazzi cameras flash, and people shout my name, some calling me a freak, some demanding that I rot in hell. My arms are up, trying my best to shield my face, when Cary appears beside me. His hands cover my head, pulling me against his chest as if it’s his automatic response to shield me from the chaos that is my life.

  But he’s misunderstood me. I’m not trying to shield my face because I don’t want anyone to see me, or because I’m trying to hide. Those days are over.

  I push him away and step back, taking in the stunned expression on his face as the mob quiets. “I’m not ashamed, Cary.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “This is who I am now, and I’ll never be anything else. I can accept it. They can accept it, or I can choose not to live. I haven’t lived in twenty-five years. I choose life because I’m worth it. I know that now.”

  We stare at each other, Cary’s lips parting as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I meant what I said to him. I haven’t lived in twenty-five years, but the old Shiloh is dead and gone. The one walking out of this building lives for the happiness of other people, not for her own. That’s the key to living. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to find it.