“Ho, no. No. I wouldn’t have prostituted myself.”
“I didn’tprostitute myself.” But Taylor’s right: it’s the perception that matters as much as the reality. She wants to pick up one of the rocks by her feet and hurl it at Taylor’s head. “You don’t know what you would have done if you had to.”
“I know where I would have drawn the line.”
The dark clouds are moving closer now, racing across the sky. “Maybe you wouldn’t have done what I did asyou, Taylor. But you have no idea what you would done as me. You don’t know what you would do as someone who has to work for everything.”
“Whoa, easy there, girlfriend,” says Taylor. Juliana wonders if Taylor would have the strength to push her into the water, hold her head down until she couldn’t breathe. The water is cold on this side of the island, and Taylor is tough as nails. There’s real vitriol in Taylor’s voice when she says, “You think I don’t work? You think my father just hands me everything for free?” She leans in so close that Juliana can smell the bourbon on her breath.
Juliana tries to pull herself straighter but she’s no match for Taylor’s height. You can teach a lot of things, and if it can be taught Juliana has learned it, but you can’t teach tall. If anything happens to her, will anybody know? Allison would remember that Juliana had asked her to trace a number, and she would remember whose number it was. But Juliana hadn’t told Allison when she was leavingor where she was going. She could trace the location on her phone—but not if Taylor destroys her phone.
“I think he hands you a lot,” she says.
“I’ve got news for you. He doesn’t.”
Juliana, who can count on the fingers of one hand the times she’s cried in front of another person, can hold it in no longer. She starts to cry. “I worked so hard for what I have.”
Taylor’s eyes blaze. “I worked for my shit too!I work harder than most people you know. I work and I work and I work. People think I’m putting myself first, but you know what? I was bred to put the business first, and that’s what I do. I was taught loyalty before I was taught math.” Now she actually looks likeshe’sgoing to cry. Does Taylor cry? “And guess what, as a result my husband is the one my daughter calls for in the middle of the night.” She is. She’scrying. Juliana watches, amazed, as Taylor swipes at the tears that have escaped. “And that fuckingsucks, Juliana, but there’s nothing I can do about it, because that road got paved years and years ago. I was left without any choices.”
Juliana stares at her.
“You think my dad’s money means freedom, but it doesn’t. It’s a trap,” Taylor goes on.
Juliana snorts. Does Taylor honestly believe this? “I’m sorry,” she says. “Wealthis a trap? Try poverty. Poverty is a real trap.” Taylor has been born above the hot struggles of the poor. And above them, she will remain, no matter what happens.No matter what happens.“And you got a head start.”
More tears have leaked out, and Taylor swipes at those too. “And that’s my fault, right? I guess I personally owe you something because I grew up with money and you didn’t?”
“Well, no, but—” (But yes. Sort of.)
“I’m sorry. But that’s not how the world works.”
“It should,” spits Juliana.
“Unfortunately, changing the way the world works is above mypay grade.” Taylor stops crying—Juliana can almost see her will herself to do that, to tell the tears,That’s enough.Go back where you came from.She sets her lips together. The wind is lifting her hair but instead of doing anything rude with it, it settles it back down. Taylor’s hair still looks perfect. Everything about Taylor looks perfect. “Skip right to the end, is that what you wanted to do? Well, we’re here now. We’re at the end.”
“What happens at the end?”
“What happens is, you make a choice. Choice number one: You keep everything you worked for, your company, your reputation. Your IPO goes forward. You get all that money you’ve been dreaming about. And I don’t say anything to anyone about what I found out.”
“What’s choice number two?”
“Choice number two is I tell everyone, and you lose everything.”
“So, ah, why would I not choose number one?”
“Because number one has a condition.”
Juliana’s heartbeat picks up. The spot behind her right knee begins to pulse. “Which is what?”
“Which is, you leave Block Island. You don’t talk to David anymore. Like not at all. No Instagram DMs, no secret texts, no carrier pigeons. Nothing. Ever. After we finish here, you contact a Realtor, and you put your house on the market, at a price I will dictate. I have a feeling you’re going to find a buyer pretty quickly.”
Juliana nods slowly and says, “I think I know where I’m going to find that buyer.”
“Damn straight you know,” says Taylor. “Damn straight.”
“I love my house.”
“I love my husband.”
