2016
It's the doorbell ringing that makes Taylor look up from her book, marking her place with her finger. When there's not the sound of rushing footsteps from the back of the house, she heaves a sigh and gets off the couch. She peeks through the small, rectangular window next to the door and rolls her eyes when she spots Sidney.
"What do you want," she demands the second the door is open. There's sweat on the man's brow, sweltering Louisiana heat not agreeing with him. He looks awful and there's a scarf hanging out of his back pants pocket. A freaking scarf. In Fort Polk, Louisiana. Where it's miserably humid all year long.
"Just thought you and your dad might like to make some more money."
"My dad's a successful lawyer and I'm his only child, we're already loaded, dude." She goes to shut the door, but he wedges his foot next to the doorjamb, muscling his way inside with a small crew following after him. "Or just barge inside, Sidney. It's not like I have the police chief's number memorized or anything."
"Jesus, how can you stand that humidity? I guess it must be a genetic thing since you're half Cuban."
"I'd ask if being racist is genetically a white thing, but we already know the answer to that." She kicks the door shut and goes back to the living room, purposefully taking a long drink of her lemonade when she notices Sidney eyeing it. "Dad! Sidney's here with his cronies!"
"Seriously? You weren't this rude last year."
"Yeah, I grew out of my shyness. Dad!" Nico comes down the hall at a languid pace, texting away and holding up a finger when Sidney tries to speak. "He's in the middle of some custody arrangement or another. You gotta wait your turn." Taylor sits back on the couch and flips her book open, ice cubes clinking in her glass from the movement.
"What do you want, Sid," Nico asks, pocketing his phone.
"I'm doing another show—"
"No freaking way. The last one was bad enough, but I'm not putting my daughter through that again."
"Not even if it means her college fund gets a little boost? Think of it, she won't even need a full scholarship at this rate, she can basically afford the Ivy Leagues if she wants to. Do this for her." He rests a hand on Taylor's head, jerking it away when she tries to bite it. "Or, more likely, you'll have the money to bribe whatever judge tries to put her ass in juvie."
"Taylor, we've discussed this. You can't go around biting people."
"He touched me without asking first," she grumbles.
"She's got a point." A tic starts up in Sidney's jaw and he has to bite back a scathing remark, Diana stepping up to the plate.
"Sidney's right in his own way," she starts, holding up her iPad for Nico to see. "You'll get a ten percent increase in pay if you do this show. Whatever Taylor wants, she can get with this kind of money."
"What would we have to do?"
"You'd have to go back and spend three days in that house." Taylor's shoulders go stiff as she thinks back to the living hell her life had been two years ago, the sudden pain of a bone breaking and the breath-stopping panic of nearly being discovered by the hillbillies.
"No, absolutely not."
"The other three will be there."
"Then they're dumber than I gave them credit for. My daughter and I went through hell when we lived there, Diana. I mean, people are bullying her at school because they think she's a liar! Do you know how awful it feels to see your baby crying and begging not to go to school every morning?"
"Then prove those bullies wrong. Go back, spend those three days in a house full of people, and show all those bullies that you and Taylor were telling the truth."
"I wanna do it," Taylor says, setting her book and glass on the coffee table. Nico spins to look at her, thick brows knitting together over his eyes. The shadows aren't so bad these days, but there's still a fine tremor in his hands. "I wanna shove it in those kids' smug faces that I was telling the truth. Especially since my therapist says I can't go around punching them in the nose."
"Fine," Nico sighs, hands on his hips. "I guess we're going back."
It's late when they arrive back at the house, the weeds a little overgrown without someone to tend to them and the living room windows completely repaired. Taylor shoulders her backpack and arranges Eve carefully around her wrist before heading for the front door, shoes scuffing over the concrete porch.
"Honey," she mutters as the door creaks open," I'm home."
"The others are gathered in the living room," Priscilla says, frowning where she's leaning against the stairs. "Flora's not here." Taylor turns her back on the spirit and marches into the living room alongside her dad, going straight for her uncle and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I missed you, Mattie."
"Misses you too, Tay." He wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her for a moment until she pulls back to look up at him. She hasn't seen him in almost a year and he looks tired, like a gust of wind can blow him right over.
"That beard looks awful."
"What do you and Lee have against my beard? I think it looks nice."
"When was the last time you actually looked at it though?" He manages a smile and she grins back, bright enough for the both of them. "Can I come stay with you this summer? I miss LA."
"Course you can." She settles with her back against him, watching as Sidney comes in with a box he sets on the table.
"What's that," she asks, craning her head to look at it.
"A present for each of you," he answers, popping the top. "Cell phones for each of you in exchange for all your old ones. These have all been disabled so that only the camera works." Taylor takes hers and looks it over, frowning when she realizes Sidney wasn't lying. She can't even use the Internet.
"What's the point of giving us phones when we can't even play Candy Crush on them?"
"So you can document stuff that happens around the house. We'll use that footage in the actual show so the audience can get a sense of how you guys are feeling." She turns on the video function and holds the phone up, Sidney's smiling face filling the frame.
"Hey, audience, this is Sidney confiscating phones. Isn't that dumb?"
"That's not what I meant." Taylor dances away from him, keeping the phone up even when he gives up the chase. "I meant behind the scenes type stuff or activity the other cameras might not pick up."
"Ghosts don't like technology." She lowers the phone and stuffs it in the pouch of her hoodie.
"Fine, whatever. Just one last thing before I leave, room assignments; Lee and Monet will be in Lee's old room upstairs, Nico and Taylor will be in her old room, and Matt and Shelby will be together."
"No," Matt protests, taking a step forward. "I'll sleep in the basement. It'll be quieter down there."
"Whatever you want, the whole house is rigged with cameras." Taylor heads up the stairs with no more prompting, the flight tiring her out and making her glad that she left her old bed here. Her room is exactly how she left it in the mad dash to the motel two years ago, furniture dusted for the show and her old, worn teddy set against her dad's pillow.
"Well, Eve, I guess this is gonna be home for three days. Let's just hope it's not as crappy as last time." She tosses her bag down next to her dresser and kicks off her shoes before climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Even with a hoodie and sweats on, she's still cold.
Eve unravels and slithers deeper under the covers, nestling next to her bare ankle. It's the snake's favorite spot to sleep now, always touching. With the scales cool against her ankle and the shades drawn closed to keep out the moonlight, Taylor falls into a deep sleep.
It's hours later when something wakes her up, pulling her out of a nightmare she's had off and on since she was four years old, showcasing sharp angles and toppled buildings. Edward is standing near her bed, face cast in the red light of the moon outside, bones too visible after what she's just heard. It's whispered words, right up against her ear without the warmth of breath.
R is for Rory.