Taylor was no pushover, and she would not be 'talked into' joining Max's sick family. What she wanted to do was leave, find a place for herself and maybe for Sam, and they'd only ever go out in the daytime, when their family couldn't get to them. But that fantasy was impossible without a job.
Besides, a job made sense. It kept her from being nocturnal - she'd see less of her family if she slept at night - and it gave her someplace to be everyday, where they'd notice if she went missing or suddenly stopped showing up. So approximately twelve hours after arriving at Santa Carla, Taylor went upstairs, fixed up her hair and makeup, put on a pantsuit, and headed in search of a beauty salon.
Max's house backed out onto the beach a ways down from the boardwalk. If they avoided peak hours - which the family, largely nocturnal, did - it was like a private beach. But as Michael had drove her in yesterday, Taylor realized that their close proximity to the shore meant something else as well: they were far away from downtown.
Taylor had spotted the keys to the white Mercedes she'd seen yesterday in a dish on a side table next to the front door. Without thinking on it for too long, she'd taken them. Besides, it's not like anyone would need to go anywhere this time of day, would they?
As she drove, she noted how different the rest of Santa Carla was from the boardwalk. The boardwalk could thrive just about any time, benefiting solely from tourist traps, amusement rides, and rip off carnival games. Despite warnings of being 'The Murder Capital of the World,' visitors weren't deterred from the brightly-lit, family-friendly boardwalk. But downtown clearly wasn't doing as well.
Still, it was clear the locals used it, and frequently. Although there were no kitschy, souvenir shops like on the boardwalk, the downtown strip was dotted with thrift shores, grocery markets, general stores, gas stations, and - thankfully - hair salons. Although makeup was what Taylor preferred, she could do hair, and she could do it well. And, because so many people were moving from the town after missing persons began to increase, she didn't have to search long or hard before she found a job.
Taylor didn't return to the house until the sun had fallen below the horizon.
She'd stuck around the salon for a few hours after her interview, helping out Sherli, the owner and, before this morning, only worker. Then, once things slowed down during the evening, Taylor had taken her share of the tips and gone next door to the neighboring bar, ordering an Alabama Slammer as a point of celebration.
And now, as the Mercedes sped back up the driveway, she caught sight of five motorcycles parked directly in front of the carport. They'd blocked her out! Aggravated and more than a little tired, she'd parked the car in the middle of the driveway, effectively blocking them in, and marched inside.
She tossed the keys back into the dish, where she'd found them, and started to head upstairs towards her room. She hadn't fully slept in nearly 48 hours, and at this point she was running on fumes. She wanted to crawl into a warm bath, listen to some George Michael, light some candles and maybe fall asleep in there.
"Taylor!" Lucy called her name. "We're having dinner!"
"I got a snack at the bar, thanks though!" She called back to her mother.
When Lucy began to protest, Taylor sped up, like she did back in Phoenix, in high school. Her mother would rarely give chase, and would often give up on arguing with her before she even began. Taylor, like her father, was as stubborn as they come. Although Lucy had changed, this was one thing that seemed to stay the same.
Taylor closed her bedroom door behind her, cursing that there was no lock on it. Max must've thought've that when he bought this house. But it gave her a little barrier, at least, and she started to peel off the pantsuit she'd been in all day, drawing a bath as she did so. Her room was still a maze, but less so now that she'd unpacked some of the boxes. Most of it was just clothes and shoes anyways, a few books and tapes here and there. Taylor liked to travel light, to pick up new things as she went. She was rarely sentimental, rarely holding on to things that didn't seem to matter.
Almost undressed, Taylor peeled off her purple thong, kicking it into the corner of the bathroom with the rest of her clothes. Humming along to the stereo, she sunk down to her shoulders in the tub. It was everything she hoped for - and then, suddenly, it was more.
"George Michael, huh? You've got real shit taste in music, Tay."
There he was, David, standing in her bathroom doorway the same way he stood in her bedroom the other night. His imposing figure glared down at her, still in the duster he never seemed to take off. Taylor didn't jump this time - despite his silent stealth, and what had been said last night, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Paul had given her a no-bite promise, from all the boys.
"What do you want, David?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Lucy and Max sent me, they want you down here in half an hour for family dinner." David grinned at her. "But, mostly, I wanted to look at you, like this."
"All you had to do was ask," She flirted back sarcastically, rolling her eyes and she sighed. "I guess I'm done here then, hand me a towel."
Realizing she hadn't brought one into the bathroom with her, David walked to the hall bathroom to get her one. Now that was an image, he smirked, Taylor's tan, wet ass scurrying out of her room to the hall bathroom, swiping a towel and rushing back before anyone could see her. Thinking of it, he half-wished he'd denied her request.
"Here," David said, tossing the towel onto the edge of the large bathtub, careful to avoid hitting any of the candles she'd lit earlier. Faith continued to repeat itself over and over on the radio as Taylor stood up, smirking just as David had earlier.
She was soaked. Water dripped from her shoulders, sloping down her breasts and hardening her nipples, pooling at the gap between her thighs.
David looked at her for half a second, only long enough to realize what was happening, and then quickly spun around, his back to her. For just a moment, Taylor balked - she hadn't expected this.
She'd known what she was doing, standing up for him. She'd done it partially because she wanted to flirt, partially because she thought it might annoy him, and mostly to see his reaction. But this was one she hadn't been expecting - David was being a gentleman? Here she was, revealing all of herself to him, daring him to take her, and he was turning around to guard her modesty?
She grabbed the towel, and David kept his back to her.
"I'll see you at dinner." He said quietly, exiting the room.
Now this, this was interesting.