Kidnap My Heart
Chapter 3: Taylor
I managed to explain to Emma that I was not, in fact, sexually attracted to fish before lunch ended. It was a good thing, too, since she dragged me outside as soon as the bell rang. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to defend my personal preferences even if I’d tried to. She headed towards her car, still dragging me along without any attempt at an explanation.
“Emmy, where are we going?”
“We’re skipping sixth and seventh period,” she said nonchalantly.
I glanced over at Jack to gauge his reaction. Unsurprisingly, he was judging Emma hardcore. He didn’t approve of Emma’s hooky-playing.
“Why?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Wait, let me guess!” I loved guessing. I was horrible at it, but I loved it. Actually, this was the case with most of the things I liked… I lived a sad existence. “You got us a hot double date for tonight and we need time to get ready? Oh, my gosh, don’t tell me it’s those cute twins that always visit the guy next door!”
Our neighbor had these ridiculously hot friends that always came over, except they always managed to catch me at the worst times. Why couldn’t they show up when I looked hot? Instead, they showed up when I looked like an uncooked potato.
Emma rolled her eyes. “I never told you to guess. This is why.”
I wasn’t kidding when I said I was horrible at guessing. “Okay, I’m listening,” I said with a grin. Might as well save time by letting her go ahead and tell me. “Tell me!”
“My dad got us last minute VIP tickets to Paramore’s sold-out concert tonight.” Emma pulled two white-and-black tickets out of her purse and wiggled them in front of me with a proud smile.
I felt my eyes widen, my instincts telling me to reach out and touch the tickets, just to make sure they were real. “Nuh-uh!”
“Would I lie to you?” she asked, looking kind of offended.
“Actually, you would.” I laughed and pulled out of her grip, climbing into the passenger seat of her car. She didn’t say anything, probably because she knew it was true. I knew her better than she knew herself.
I settled in my seat and heard Emma ask Jack to drive my car over for us. I wasn’t about to protest. I was more likely to wreck my own car than Jack was. He drove like a turtle most of the time, at least when he was around us. I had a feeling he turned into a speed demon when he was alone. I bet he even role-played like he was a part of the Fast and the Furious when no one was around.
“How did your dad get these tickets?” I asked once we got on the road. “That concert was sold out way before we even found out about it.” I’d wanted to go, but I hadn’t found out about it early enough. Concerts like that sold out pretty quickly.
“I don’t know.” Emma shrugged. “He’s my dad. He just got them.”
Emma’s dad was basically Jesus. I knew that was kind of un-Christian of me to say, but it was pretty much the truth. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it. He’d single-handedly transformed his business from one that was in the middle of its downfall to one that was perpetually at its peak. The guy was a genius.
“Is there anything your dad can’t do?” No. No, there was not. “Holy crap. I’m so excited now! What time does it start?”
Emma made a quick turn and said, “It starts at eight, but we meet the band at six, and it’ll take around an hour to get there, so we should be ready before five.”
Five? Five, my left butt cheek. “Are you kidding?” I said. “I’ll be ready by four!”
“Of course you will.” She pulled into her parking spot, the one that was right by the entrance to our apartment building, and turned off the ignition.
We hastily made our way upstairs. I was hoping we’d run into one of the hot twins, but no such luck. At least I had Paramore to look forward to.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Emma said once we’d made it to our apartment and walked inside. Jack had gone in before us and was already in the kitchen. No surprise there. She glanced around, her eyebrows furrowing. “Where did Jack go?”
I wordlessly pointed to the kitchen.
“He’s going to try to eat my chocolates again, isn’t he?”
I didn’t say anything, leading her to saunter off into the kitchen. Honestly, if Jack hadn’t tried it, I probably would have. Emma’s dad had brought those chocolates back from Europe, and I swear, those chocolates were made by angels—further proof that Emma’s dad was basically Jesus. Emma refused to share, but keeping chocolates like that to yourself was an injustice. (Unless the roles were switched and the chocolates were mine in the first place. Then I definitely wouldn’t share. Screw charity.)
I let her do her thing—which was basically arguing with Jack—and went off into my room to get ready. I’d already taken a shower that morning, so I had plenty of time to dedicate to what was truly important here: my outfit.
Unfortunately, my search didn’t go well. Out of all of the articles of clothing in my closet, there was nothing I wanted to wear. Absolutely nothing. The more I looked, the more frustrated I got. It didn’t help that I’d made a ginormous mess for no reason.
I groaned and resorted to calling for Emma. My frustrated squeaks were leading me nowhere. Time to bring out the big guns. “Emmy! Come here. I need your help!”
Silence. Oh, so she thought she could ignore me, huh? We’d see about that.
“Emma!”
Silence. I was met with more silence.
“Emmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaa!”
Nothing. My voice had to be getting on her nerves by then. I had to be getting close to cracking her.
“Emmy!” I groaned. “Come on, Em, I need your help! Please!”
The sound of loud, trudging footsteps could be heard outside my door, leading me to smile smugly. Success. Emma walked into the room, fixing her towel so it wouldn’t fall off. “Yes?”
“I have nothing to wear,” I said. “I have nothing. Absolutely nothing!”
Emma walked past me, heading towards my closet. She looked through my wardrobe with a focus that actually surprised me. She took her fashion more seriously than even I had realized.
She pulled out a dress I’d worn to a banquet once and now hated. Noel had gone with me to that banquet. Anything that reminded me of Noel needed to be burned, not worn to a concert. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay… how about this one?”
Another dress that reminded me of Noel. “No way.”
She rolled her eyes. “How about this top?”
Noel had bought that shirt for me when we went to the mall one day. Wow, I needed to burn my entire wardrobe. “No. Definitely not.”
The rest of the dresses and tops Emma pulled out didn’t remind me of Noel. That wasn’t the reason I dismissed them. They were just ugly. What had I been thinking when I’d bought those? I couldn’t wear those out in public.
“These just will not work,” I finally said.
I guess this was the last straw for her because she consequently shouted, “Oh, screw you, then. Go naked for all I care!”
My mouth dropped open as she turned and barged out of my room. “Well then.” It looked like I was on my own here. Whatever; I didn’t need her. I could find a totally cute outfit by myself. I would just have to look at my wardrobe with a new, less critical eye. Eventually, I did find something decent. I just had to lower my standards by… well, by a lot.
I had a feeling my love life was going to end up following this mantra. It was either that or buying a ton of cats to keep me company. Except I was allergic to cats, and that option would probably lead to my death.
Lower standards it was, then.
I ended up settling on a floral dress I’d bought at some boutique in New York—I couldn’t remember the name, but it carried all of the major brands I liked to buy—and a dark blazer to contrast the light floral pattern on the dress. Not my best, but not hideous, either.
Once I’d decided I was satisfied with my ensemble, I went over to Emma’s room to help her out. “I picked an outfit,” I announced, strutting in without bothering to knock. Knocking was for people who weren’t comfortable with each other. Emma and I were sisters, as far as I was concerned. Our actual families were AWOL most of the time. We were all we really, truly had. Emma was the only person I knew would always be there for me. I couldn’t say the same about my parents or my brother.
“That’s nice,” Emma said, sounding completely uninterested.
Okay, she was there for me most of the time.
“Now it’s your turn.” I walked over to her closet, figuring she was having the same problem I’d had and also needed to lower her standards a little.
“I can pick my own outfit.”
Debatable. “Yeah, but I want to help.”
I pulled out a neon pink bandage dress, but Emma immediately shot that suggestion down with two words. “Too bright.”
Going off of her words, I chose something that was the complete opposite of that dress, but I was once again shot down with just a few words. “Not bright enough.”
The short sleeved dress I grabbed was “not slutty enough,” and the little black dress I showed her was “too slutty.” (That one was mine…)
The crop top I picked was “too old-fashioned” (how) and the jeggings were “so last season.” The fur jacket led to a comment about Chewbacca (what was a Chewbacca?!) and the regular jacket led to the comment, “I’m not going to Antarctica, Taylor.”
By this point, I’d realized she wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything I showed her, so I just grabbed the first thing I saw, which just so happened to be a really ugly Christmas sweater we’d bought as a joke the year before.
“That looks like something my dad’s dog would wear,” she said. I was pretty sure her dad didn’t have a dog, but whatever. That wasn’t the issue at hand.
The real issue at hand was what followed. All I did was touch one of the shirts she had in the back of her closet—and I mean barely touch, like my finger grazed the material and that was it— yet she still felt the need to make a stupid comment. “And that looks like something my dad would wear.”
That was it. That was the last straw. I cracked. I DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THE SHIRT. Okay, fine, I touched it, but barely! She couldn’t have even seen what I was going for! “You are impossible. I give up!”
And this girl, the girl I called my best friend, had the nerve to say, “Thanks for nothing,” as I was walking out. I couldn’t even begin to describe the angry noise I made. It was not natural. I angrily applied my makeup and angrily straightened my hair and I would have angrily put on my shoes had I not managed to forget why I was angry in the first place by that point.
I was ready before Emma for once, probably because of my angry, hastened movements, and I even managed to sneak a few chocolates and destroy the evidence before she came out of her room. Unfortunately, there was a witness to my crime.
“You saw nothing, Jack,” I said, slowly pointing a finger at him. “Nothing.”
“I saw nothing. Nothing except a piece of chocolate in my hand.”
Catching on, I handed him a piece to silence him. Sometimes sacrificial bribery was necessary. He gave me a silent nod and some weird hand signal that I didn’t understand. I think he thought we had some sort of secret food-lover code, but I wasn’t catching on. Things had to be explained in depth to me.
The evidence was completely destroyed but Emma had a way of knowing—just knowing— when you did something behind her back, so in order to offset any possible suspicion on her part, I showered her with praise the second she stepped out of her room. “You look gorgeous, Em. Where was that dress when I was looking through your closet? I would’ve stolen it!”
I would’ve complimented her anyway, but I wouldn’t have laid it on so thick if I hadn’t just eaten half of her box of chocolates. “A few” had somehow turned into “half a box” along the way, which probably explained Jack’s judgmental staring. It wasn’t just jealousy. He was judging me. I honestly hadn’t meant to eat that many; I was supposed to be watching my figure for the party, after all.
Emma laughed and twirled around in her dress, completely oblivious to what I’d just done. As she moved, the dress began to flow the way it only does in the movies. Yeah, I definitely should’ve ransacked her closet first. I’d just have to take it later.
She stopped twirling long enough to ask about Jack’s whereabouts.
“In the kitchen.”
I wasn’t sure he was actually in the kitchen, but it was as good a bet as any.
“Of course he is. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and checked my phone while she was gone. A few new friend requests on Facebook—no one I knew or cared to friend—a text from Aaron asking where Emma and I had gone, and a text from my parents. Their business trip had been extended. They were in China closing some big deal that wasn’t supposed to take long. They were supposed to be back in time for my birthday.
How much longer are you guys staying over there? I wrote.
Another week, at the very least. Things aren’t going as planned, but we have the situation under control. Don’t worry.
“Don’t worry,” they said. Like I was actually worried about their business deal. I had no idea what they were even doing over there. I played no part in the family business. I barely even knew what the family business was. All I knew was that we sold wine and had vineyards. I had no interest in any of this stuff, and those two words just went to show how little they knew about me. I hadn’t asked about their stay because of the deal; I’d asked because they’d promised they would be here for my big day, just like they’d promised they would be home for my sixteenth birthday. What a joke.
My fingers hovered over the touch-screen keyboard. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I could’ve typed, but nothing felt right. There was no point. Nothing I said would change their plans.
“Why even have children if you’re not going to take care of them?” I muttered to myself. “Okay, true, that would mean I wouldn’t exist.” Never mind about that.
I continued muttering to myself about God knows what for another minute or so before Emma came back with a surly expression on her face. She’d mentioned something about trying to get Jack off of our backs for the concert earlier, though I’d had a feeling it wasn’t going to work. Jack never left her side.
“No go?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No go.”
I shoved aside my own surly feelings and stood up with a smile. “Well, come on. I’m sure the concert will cheer you up.” I grabbed Emma’s arm and dragged her along as I walked to the door. “Are we taking your car, mine, or the limo?”
“My car,” she said, shaking out of my grip. She didn’t like being manhandled.
“I would feel more comfortable if we took the limo,” Jack said.
Emma shook her head immediately. “I am not taking the limo. It’s beyond ostentatious. Besides, I want to drive.”
“Okay,” he said after a pause. He seemed unsure of his decision but didn’t back down. “But I’ll still follow in my car.”
“Of course you will,” Emma muttered.
I climbed in the passenger seat of Emma’s car, hoping she would follow my lead instead of starting another argument she would never win. She did, luckily, and then we were on our way. Jack did as he said he would and drove right next to us in his usual black SUV.
Emma kept quiet for a while and just listened to the radio, but eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. “He’s such a creeper,” she said. “Do you see this, Taylor? He’s right next to us. If he scratches my car, I’ll kill him.”
“I see it,” I said with a laugh. It was impossible not to. Jack’s ride was huge and obvious. “It’s his job, though. Quit complaining, Emmy. Give him a break!”
I felt kind of bad for Jack. He got a lot of slack from Emma for doing his job. I’d never been in her position and didn’t know what it felt like to be followed around all the time, but I could appreciate that Jack was just trying to do what he’d been hired to do and also what he felt was right—i.e. protect Emma at all costs. Plus, Jack was a cool guy and scared away the weird guys who sometimes tried to approach us.
“It’s creepy,” she insisted stubbornly.
“Cheer up,” I said, shaking Emma’s arm. I said this mostly for selfish reasons. If Emma was surly, how was I supposed to switch my mood up and forget about the fact that I was being ditched on my birthday by my own family? I wanted to let go and have fun, something that wasn’t going to be easy if Emma was complaining the whole time. “We’re about to have an awesome time! Ignore the bodyguard and have fun. I mean, we get to meet Paramore! How cool is that?”
She finally cracked a smile and looked over at me. “Too cool. I just hope it goes better than the last concert we went to. Lady Gaga was just erratic. I thought Jack was going to run out of the room or pee his pants.”
We went to one of her concerts in her wild, wild days—like, meat-dress days. Jack was scarred for life. She wasn’t completely crazy during our meet and greet, but she was pretty… strange. “Oh, I know, and we only got half an hour with her!” I said. “It was supposed to be an hour.”
“What did you expect? It’s Gaga. She’s beyond busy.”
“Still. She should’ve given us one of her outfits to make up for the loss.”
“You seriously wanted one of her outfits? What did you want, the meat-dress?”
“I could make a serious fashion statement in that thing!”
“Wash your mouth!”
“I already did after I ate your chocolates,” I retorted without thinking.
“What?”
“What?”
Emma glanced over with narrowed eyes. She couldn’t stare me down while she was driving, but I could definitely feel the hole she was mentally drilling into my head. I quickly changed the subject and managed to distract her, though it seemed as if I was distracting her too well. Except it wasn’t me that was doing the distracting.
“Do you see that car right behind us? It’s been there for a while.” Emma glanced in her rearview mirrors before returning her sight to the road.
“Um.” I stuck my head out the window, very canine-esque. There was a car behind us, though I didn’t see why that was a big deal. It was a car. We were on a road. They were on the same road. We were driving. They were driving. Normal.
I was yanked back inside the car by Emma and smacked in the arm. “Don’t be so obvious!” she hissed at me.
“Sorry!” I rubbed my arm with a frown. That was going to bruise. I bruised like a peach. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”
“I think that car has been following us.”
“Well, I think you’re being paranoid.” She watched a ton of crime shows in her free time. Obviously they were starting to get to her head. “They’re probably just going the same way. Maybe they’re going to the concert, too. I don’t know. Now quit being so paranoid and just have fun! You’re going to ruin this concert for us.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. When she finally spoke, she still didn’t sound totally convinced. “Yeah, you’re right.” Her words said one thing, but her tone said another. She was so worried, in fact, that some of her worry started to seep into me, forming a knot in my stomach. All of a sudden, I had a bad feeling about how the rest of the night was going to go, but again, I played it off as paranoia. Paranoia was contagious, as far as I knew. Not in the airborne way we get diseases, but in the way other people’s moods and ideas affect us.
Maybe if I’d had a better grasp of the beauty of paranoia, we wouldn’t have gotten into trouble. Maybe I would’ve agreed with Emma, and we would’ve turned around and gone home. Maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped. Maybe our lives would’ve stayed the same.
Maybe I should’ve watched more crime shows to increase my own paranoia and hyperawareness. But maybe I was glad I didn’t.