may the wolves [ kaylor ]

I.

Shoutout @ Emily for proofreading all of this for me. This is definitely going to be a long fic, and I'm posting this after having written the first few chapters of it, so we'll see how it goes from there.

Trigger Warnings for: Violence, mentions of drinking, drug use, lots of lesbian sex (not all of this is this chapter though lol)

The bar isn't a particularly high-class one, not the normal sort of place people of her status would go on a regular basis. It isn't that it's a bad place. It's not classy, lit up with chandeliers and glass bar-tops. But there's no fear that some random patron will slip a knife into her spine at any moment, either. She accidentally wandered into a place like that once in Australia. It's not an experience that she wants to repeat.

The air is yeasty with the scent of beer, and remixes of top 40 hits throb underneath the sound of conversation and clinking glasses. There are college students laughing loudly, or grinding on the dance floor, and the usual pack of men watching the lone women in the place like they're trying to decide the best move to make. It's almost movie-level cliche. But what draws Taylor to this bar in particular is the lighting. Around the counter and central seating area, the lights are bright and cupped by colorful glass that seems to sparkle.

Where she sits, however, is settled in the back of the bar, lofted up a few feet in an obvious attempt at seclusion. The lights are dimmed, and Taylor studies herself in the front camera of her phone, liking the way the shadows carve down her cheekbones. She feels like she might be unrecognizable unless someone happens to look hard, or knows her face well, and that's a comfort in itself.

The media attention has drowned her lately, especially since her "breakup" with Adam Wiles AKA Calvin Harris. To the general public, it's the fault of different views of the future, of different desires for the pathways of their lives. The truth, however, is that the contract they'd made had ended, and though the option had been offered to her to extend it until the two year mark, she had quickly turned it down.

Adam is not her favorite person. He's not the worst she's ever met, but he's definitely not the best, and his occasionally sexist comments and racist jokes had made her spine shudder for months. She's relieved to be free of the stress, relieved to no longer have to act. But the media now has her in an even broader spotlight, and it's starting to burn her to a crisp.

There are three shots of tequila in a neat line on the weary wooden table in front of her. She knocks back the first one easier than she would have been able to do a few years prior. It burns, carving a fire trail down her throat. But it feels good, too, like she's been asleep and it's waking her up like a loud alarm. Her security on duty, James, sips his Rum and Coke, smirking a little bit around the glass. One of her eyebrows arches, "What's so funny?"

"Rough week?" James asks, and the only answer Taylor gives him is a snort. He's one of her favorite members of her security team, because while he takes his job seriously, his words are always underlined with a sense of humor. He has a son named Dax, a preschool boy with a dinosaur obsession and hair the color of Halloween pumpkins. Taylor gives him presents for Christmas and his birthday every year, and always makes sure to send home a few cookies with James to give to the kid.

He's needed it lately. A chest infection has had him in and out of the hospital, and while the prognosis is positive, Taylor is sure it isn't easy to have a kid in the ER hooked up to machines. So that's why James is drinking on the job, and why she isn't even a little upset about it. Work is important. Taylor will never be the person to say that you can get anywhere without hard work. But family is more important than that, a knot that Taylor has no place untangling. She will always tell the people she hires to take care of their families first. She knows very well that Austin or her parents would never come second.