by Kade Charest
“No way,” Derrick said, blocking the door with his body. “She’s asleep. Leave her alone.”
Marty rolled her eyes and yawed again. “Fine, fine. But as her stylist, I am going to need her soon.”
“Why?”
“Uh, because it’s mani/pedi day, and that shit takes time,” Marty said in irritation to her brother’s questioning.
“Oh, of course. How silly of me to not know,” Derrick joked and then panicked a little. “You aren’t taking her out of here, Marty,” he said, sort of asking and sort of telling.
“Are you joking? We wouldn’t even make it out of a car,” Marty said. “Yesterday Rog basically had to bulldoze people out of my way, ‘Where is Taylor, Marty?’ ‘Is she with you in the car?’”
Derrick’s stomach lurched. “Well, you know, this wouldn’t have been so blown up if someone hadn’t posted our business on social media,” he hissed at his sister. He was ready for Marty to retaliate, but instead her face fell.
“I know,” she said. “I totally messed up. I wasn’t thinking about how Taylor would feel about all this, and now she is all freaking locked up here.” Marty shook her head.
This was true to Marty. Fast action and then full of remorse. “It’s okay. It will die down,” Derrick said, pulling his sister in for a hug.
“Yeah,” Marty said, “but not for a while, not with the freaking doorknob of a rock you put on her finger and no wedding date in sight.”
Derrick motioned his head for Marty to follow him to the sitting room and away from his door. He didn’t want to hear anything to make Taylor worry more. “What do you mean?” he asked when they were about twenty feet from the door.
“The speculation, the wondering—the paparazzi hates not to have the inside scoop on anything. If I were you guys, and I wanted to shut them up I would get this thing done,” Marty said matter-of-factly. “I mean, what’s the holdup anyway?”
Good question, Derrick mused. “We just got engaged. I think Taylor—”
“It’s not like she needs to get to know the family or save money for the wedding of her dreams,” Marty reminded Derrick, and then suddenly her eyes become glazed and dreamlike. “I can pick out her dress,” she whispered.
“Look, she just got a company dumped in her lap. This isn’t exactly how she planned everything, so throwing a wedding on top of it is not at the top of her list.” But it should be, Derrick added silently. Without a ring on it, anything she did with the company would be illegal.
Marty pouted her lips and huffed. “True,” she reluctantly agreed. She looked at her brother and smiled. “I’m glad she is back, though.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m glad you’re happy again,” Marty added, knocking Derrick with her shoulder. “She always made you happy. What the hell took you so long to see it?”
Derrick’s phone rang, saving him from any further inquisition. “I have to take this,” he said. “Let Tay sleep, please.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Marty teased, shooting her brother a knowing grin. “‘Let her sleep, for when she wakes she will move mountains’,” Marty teased in a British accent. “Have fun with business, bro!”
“Of course,” he muttered, sitting on a couch in the upper sitting area. “Time to be Business Ken doll,” he murmured.
When Taylor woke alone, she was sad, and then she was mad at herself for being sad. You were alone for years, she reminded herself, isn’t that what you wanted?
Apparently not anymore.
She got up, went to the bathroom, and was immediately pulled forward upon exiting by a very hyper Marty.
“Geez Louise, I thought you were never going to get your butt out of bed,” she announced as she dragged Taylor to the closet.
“What time is it?” Taylor asked, still baffled by Marty’s presence.
“Ten thirty! Derrick told me I had to leave you alone, so I have been sitting outside the door waiting for you to wake up. I have been there for two hours!” Marty started pushing clothes into Taylor’s arms. “Put these on.”
“Uh, what’s going on? Do I have to be somewhere?”
“No,” Marty said in excitement, grabbing Taylor’s hands and smiling, then jumping up and down. “It’s mani/pedi day!” she squealed.
This was way too much for Taylor to take in before she had her coffee. “It’s what?” she asked, confused.
“Today I have the top aestheticians coming to give you and—so you wouldn’t be alone—me manis and pedis!”
Taylor couldn’t help but laugh at Marty’s excitement. “Sounds great,” she said, smiling. “Uh, can I have coffee and a shower first, though?”
“Shower first. You can have coffee while they do your toes,” Marty ordered.
“Then I have to have my toes done first,” Taylor informed Marty, as she allowed her to pull her to the bathroom.
“Oh, of course, Taylor. You’re in charge!”
Taylor looked at Marty’s arm dragging her. “Oh yeah, I can totally see that,” she said, trying to hold back the laughter.
Marty deposited Taylor in front of the shower. “Okay, do this and meet me on the patio!” she said and scurried away, totally missing Taylor saluting her.
Taylor laughed and then started the shower. She was, in fact, in charge of lots of things, but she knew that this situation was not one of them.
“See? Wasn’t this worth getting up for?” Marty asked Taylor.
Taylor nodded in agreement.
“When you’re right, you’re right, Marty,” she told her friend. It was now 11:30, and the two of them were sitting in the sun on a veranda overlooking the flower gardens of the Fletcher estate, Taylor drinking coffee, Marty a mimosa, and both ladies having their feet worshiped by pedicure geniuses. Taylor’s feet had never felt so relaxed. In fact, Taylor wondered if they would wake up enough later for her to walk on them. She did notice that both women kept shooting glances to her left ring finger and the heavy weight on it.
“So, more of the same stuff as yesterday after this?” Marty asked Taylor. She was being very vague, and Taylor appreciated her not getting too deep during their spa session. As was standard, the women had signed non-disclosure agreements before even being allowed on the property, but that didn’t always stop information or rumors from flying. By the time any legal implications took place from breaking the agreement the damage would already be done. And Taylor had enough to worry about without these women leaking info on her business plans or engagement or the suspicious fact that she’d had no clothes and that Marty had gone shopping for her.
“Yup,” Taylor said.
“Well, I am glad you got this. You deserve to relax,” Marty said.
“Thank you,” Taylor said and sipped her coffee and closed her eyes.
Before Taylor knew it, the women were done, and she was outfitted with matching medium-gray-colored fingers and toes. Marty had helped her pick out the color. “It will be perfect for you,” Marty said, once again flying their conversation under the watchful radar of the manicurists. It was both comfortable and sad to Taylor that they knew how to do this. Comfortable because Taylor felt like maybe she could be okay back in this world where she was now forced to be, and sad because this was a way she was going to have to live again. Although keeping these secrets and hiding these things was really nothing compared to how she had been living the last several years.
As the women packed their things, Henry came out to the patio, his large frame stuffed into a suit, and Marty groaned.
“That man is a walking erotic fantasy,” she muttered.
“Marty!” Taylor chastised, laughing.
Marty shook her head, never taking her eyes off of Henry as he made his way over, “Sorry, Taylor. I think I am in love.”
Taylor laughed and was still smiling when Henry stopped in front of her. “Hello, Ms. Preston. May I have a word?”
“Of course, Henry. Let me just—”
“No moving for at least another ten minutes,” Eva, the woman who h
ad honed her craft on Taylor, cut in. “I used traditional polish. It needs to set or you will smudge.”
“Got it,” Taylor said, easing back into her seat.
Eva and her partner nodded, happy to see order returned, and then exited the patio.
“So, what’s up, Henry?” Taylor asked when they were finally alone.
“Ms. Preston—”
“Please call me Taylor.”
Henry gave a quick nod, “Taylor, I am having the finishes put on the security system for Preston Corp. I will be monitoring and testing it today and tomorrow to work out any issues before you go in on Wednesday. I have also sent out staff to assess the security of the Preston Corp. facilities on the East Coast as you asked.”
“Great. Thank you, Henry,” Taylor said. She wasn’t sure what else to say or order or ask, so she busied herself with taking a sip of coffee.
“And I need to know what you and Mr. Fletcher have decided on as your permanent residence?”
And that was when Taylor realized coffee was a poor choice to busy yourself with, for when you choke on it, it burns your lungs as well as your nasal passages when it is expelled.
“Holy cow, Taylor. Are you okay?” Marty asked as she patted her back gingerly, trying not to smudge her hot-pink nails. “Is that still hot?”
“Sorry,” Taylor croaked, trying to regain her composure as she coughed. “Wrong pipe,” she offered as explanation. “Uh, I’m sorry Henry. What did you ask?” she said, trying to buy herself even seconds more to wrap her head around the question.
“Your permanent residence—” Henry asked calmly, “where will it be?”
“Uhhhh,” Taylor snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was not saying anything intelligible.
“I figured you guys were going back to his penthouse,” Marty chimed in. “I mean he bought it for you, didn’t he?”
“Bought it for me?” Taylor asked, perplexed. “No,” she answered shaking her head, “he—”
“Yes he did,” Marty interrupted. “When he bought it he said it was his ‘settle-down place,’” she told Taylor, complete with air quotes. “That was like, I don’t know, eight months ago, and now you show up with a ring. Ergo, he bought it for you! Surprise!”
“No, I think he meant—”
“There you are.” Derrick’s voice cut across the patio, sending everyone turning in his direction, but his eyes were trained on Taylor, and his face was covered in a smile.
“Hey, did you buy your place for Taylor?” Marty shouted.
Derrick’s pace slowed a little, and he looked a little wary. “Why? What’s up?”
“Hunky Henry here wants to know where you guys will be shacking up so he can hot-wire it to keep you guys safe,” Marty rattled on in explanation.
Henry blushed at his new nickname.
“Can you make it safe?” Derrick asked, turning his attention to Hunky Henry.
Henry was silent for a few seconds. “I will need to look into it further. It was definitely a safety issue getting you two out of there from what I understand, but it is a possibility. The building is set up for those who attract press attention.”
“I know,” Derrick said flatly to Henry and then turned his focus to Taylor. “Is that where you want to be, Tay?”
“Uhhhhhhhh.” again Taylor couldn’t process any of this. She looked at Derrick and widened her eyes to try and signal to him she really was not sure what the hell to say.
“The penthouse is where we want to be if it can be made safe enough,” Derrick said to Henry, keeping his eyes on Taylor as he answered. He broke their eye contact and looked at Henry. “If you think there is any concern then we will work on Plan B and stay here until that works. But let’s move forward with trying to get the penthouse ready for us.”
“Will do,” Henry said with a nod.
“Thank you, Henry,” Taylor said as he made his way out.
When Henry was no longer in the room, Marty cocked her head back to Taylor. “How come you were so hesitant to live in the penthouse?” she asked.
“I just—”
“Because the last time she was there and thought she was safe, she was driven out by herds of paparazzi,” Derrick snapped at his sister, saving Taylor from coming up with something, anything to say.
“Oh, right,” Marty said, nodding her head and seeming to remember the events of a few days ago. “Sorry, Taylor, if I hadn’t posted—”
“No, no, Marty, it’s okay.” The last thing she wanted was for Marty to feel responsible for the media circus that had surrounded her.
“It’s not okay. Stop posting shit!” Derrick yelled.
“Derrick, stop,” Taylor said. “Maybe we should just stay here until we figure—”
“No way! I swear I won’t put anything else out there!” Marty assured them. “Don’t stay here. You guys should be on your own, getting everything ready for the wedding, living your lives! There are too many distractions here.”
Exactly why I want to be here and not alone with your brother, Taylor thought to herself. “Well, let’s see what Henry says. Then we can go from there.”
“Good idea. If that won’t work, we can just get you guys a different place,” Marty said, like it was a new tissue, no big deal.
“Okay, I think I’m dry,” Marty said, surveying her nails. “I’m off to organize your clothes and give you two some alone time,” she announced with a wink, and then she sprang away.
As Marty made her way into the house, Taylor locked eyes with Derrick. “This is going to hurt people.”
“What is?”
“All these lies,” Taylor hissed at him.
“We aren’t lying,” Derrick scoffed, causing Taylor’s eyes to bug out of their sockets. Derrick weaved his head side to side as he weighed out their situation. “Okay, so we haven’t really been dating for two years—”
“And we aren’t madly in love!” Taylor whisper-shouted at him, still bug-eyed.
“I am.”
“No!” Taylor said, springing up from her chair and pointing a finger at Derrick. “Stop it. You cut that shit right now! We have a fake engagement, and people are expecting a marriage, and I think Marty already has our kids’ names picked out!”
“Austin and Adelia,” Derrick replied, deadpan.
“Stop it!”
Smirking, Derrick rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Engagement and marriage and lying to Marty are a big deal!”
“Then end it, Taylor. Save Marty from all of this heartache you think she will endure and end this.”
“Can we?”
“Sure,” Derrick said nonchalantly, “and then Preston Corp. will be sold off and all your troubles will be gone.”
Anger rolled through Taylor as she realized what Derrick had just done. “Thanks, dear. Nothing says madly in love like blackmail.”
“I am not blackmailing you, Taylor, I am just pointing out your options—”
“Which I don’t have,” she bit at him.
“I’m sorry,” Derrick said, moving toward Taylor. “I didn’t mean—”
“To make me look foolish, to give me a false sense of hope, to shove me right back into my corner?”
“To make you feel bad, damn it! Look, Tay, I know you don’t want this, but nobody is getting hurt by our ‘relationship,’” Derrick told her, putting air quotes around their relationship.
“Nope, no one,” Taylor said, grabbing her phone and magazine from the chair. “Just me,” she reminded him and shouldered her way past Derrick and into the house.
Chapter Fifteen
Every time Derrick thought Taylor was starting to relax, to let her guard down, to become more comfortable with coming home and running Preston Corp. he was proven very wrong.
It had been hours since their fight on the patio. She was right, of course, if she broke the engagement she would upset Marty, but she couldn’t, and he knew that. Throwing that little tidbit in at her was like a grenade, and Taylor had explo
ded. He hadn’t really thought that one through, but he also didn’t want her to think it was a possibility. Which of course meant she was the only one being forced to do what she didn’t want to do.
“ERRRRR,” Derrick grunted as his thoughts rewound and he hit the boxing bag in front of him. He had been in the gym for hours—three hours, in fact. It had taken everything that he had to not run after Taylor, but he forced himself back because what was he going to say? Sorry but you don’t have a choice and it makes me ecstatic because I have you just where I want you? It was a little too evil queen and not enough of the charming and dashing white knight he wanted to be.
Guilt was eating away at him; he was just as bad as Cedric, holding her under his thumb. Okay, so maybe not as bad as that crazy freak, but Christ, he was totally not helping her either. And speaking of eating, he hadn’t, and all this exertion was making him ravenous. And he knew Taylor probably hadn’t eaten either, and though she was likely still pissed at him, again, he needed to make sure she was okay.
He went off to find her and came up empty. When he came out of his room for the second time, he bumped into Marty.
“Ew, you totally stink, Derrick,” Marty said, backing away and very maturely pinching her nose. “You should be getting in there and showering, not coming out like that,” she said pointing to his room door behind him.
“I was looking for Taylor,” he informed her, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, she was talking to Dad, but now she’s in a meeting with Todd in the downstairs boardroom,” she informed him. “She has business nonsense to do, so I recommend a shower, and then you can find her.”
Derrick looked down and saw his T-shirt was pretty much soaked, but just to confirm he lifted an arm and sniffed. The stench burned his nostril and eyes; he wanted to back away from himself.
“See?” Marty said. “I’m off to class! Shower first!” she yelled in parting.
Sometimes having a little sister was a giant pain in the balls. They nagged and pushed buttons, and even in their twenties they were still snarky and weird. But when Marty was right, she was right, and Derrick went off to the shower.