Page 2 of Twisted Beauty

Her stomach lurched with the g-forces and she reached for her shoulder belt. It didn’t budge. Because that would have been too easy.

The driver sped through the airport, swerving around cars and shuttles and pedestrians like they were in some video game without real-life consequences. She dug around for the buckle in the seat cushion while she tugged at the shoulder strap, but no luck with either. So she grasped the edge of the seat and held on.

Holy crap. Was this normal in Mexico?

As the taxi rounded a bend and merged onto a highway, a glimmering expanse of deep blue water spread out before her. The road straightened out and hugged the coast, so Liv released her grip on the seat and forced herself to take a deep, relaxing breath. She stared out her window, watching the swells roll gently in, rising into clear, emerald waves that crested and crashed onto the shore. The color deepened and sparkled as it stretched out to the horizon, like a blanket of glittering diamonds. It was absolutely—

Devastating.

Liv squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late. That color was all she could see. The same exact sapphire blue, complete with a sheen of iridescent green.

It sent her straight back to that night. That stupid, unlocked door. That moment when she’d walked in on her fiancé and her friend—make that her ex-fiancé and her ex-friend—going at it in the Channel Six editing room after hours. Now there was an image that was burned into her retinas forever. Jillian’s glittering blue toenails moving in rhythm against Grant’s pasty white butt. Like five pairs of eyes staring back at her, taunting her. Daring her to finally speak up for herself.

She sighed. Was it so much to ask that the ocean here be even a slightly different shade of blue?

“Muy bonito. Sí, señorita?”

Liv glanced up to see a pair of dark eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror.

She forced a smile. “Sí, it’s beautiful.” Spanglish was the best she could offer right now. Trying to speak in a foreign language felt like too much effort. Then again, so did breathing.

“First time?” the driver asked, switching to English with a thick accent.

To be cheated on? She stared at him in the mirror for a moment, and then her brain kicked in.

“Right, yes. Sí. First time in Puerto Vallarta.” Liv nodded, then shook her head, horrified that she’d almost voiced that thought.

The hour or two of sleep she’d been getting each night for the past few weeks was obviously screwing with her mind. Any normal person would be hallucinating by now. At least she was speaking in full sentences, so that was something.

Liv reminded herself that yes, this was her first time in this part of Mexico, and yes, it really was beautiful. And warm. And vibrant. She’d come here to get away, to figure out how to start over, and she had every intention of enjoying it. Even if it killed her. If anyone could teach her how to live life on her own terms, it was Katie.

“Ah, muy bien. I take you through town,” the driver said.

Through town? Was there some other way? The taxi started to shake and rattle, like it was about to break apart and collapse in a heap on the street, and Liv had a pretty good guess why they might want to choose an alternate route. Cobblestones. Narrow cobblestone streets with jagged cracks and potholes big enough to fit her carry-on bag.

Liv grabbed onto the door handle, as if that would somehow stop her body from vibrating. The driver swerved to miss a pedestrian and she slid halfway across the back seat. She looked to the rearview mirror again expecting him to say something about the near miss, but he didn’t even glance up. Was he…humming? A moment later, he swerved around another pedestrian, barely clearing a whole family this time. She turned back to make sure they’d survived just in time to see the car behind hers swerve around them too.

Her palms were sweating, and she dried them on her shorts before grasping the door handle again. If she died in this taxi, she was coming back to haunt Katie. Of course she’d understood when Katie took a last-minute job out in Sayulita and couldn’t meet her at the airport. But a warning about the crazy-ass drivers here might have been nice.

“El Malecon, señorita.” The driver gestured out the passenger window toward a boardwalk that skirted the beach.

As the taxi bounced along the cobblestones, Liv felt a pang of envy. So many people were out enjoying their Saturday afternoon. Strolling down the walkway, lazing by the fountains, basking in the sun by the beach. Laughing.

When was the last time she’d felt that carefree? Not even before the whole Jillian and Grant thing. If she was being honest with herself, she’d been living a lie for the last two years. Maybe her entire life.

She rolled down her window and breathed in the thick, salty air. Colorful statues and street performers dotted the boardwalk, making it look almost like Venice Beach back home. The last place she wanted to think about was home. The whole scene made her feel more alone and disconnected than ever.

But Katie had insisted that a month in Puerto Vallarta would give her a new start and a fresh perspective.

Of course, Katie had never been through any kind of heartbreak, or even a troubled relationship. Back when they were roommates in grad school, Katie had a boy toy in every class. Kind of like a sailor with a different lover in every port, though to be fair she didn’t actually sleep with all of them. They were more like starstruck groupies. Or puppies. But she did flirt shamelessly. And that earned her the nickname WildKat, which naturally she’d taken as a compliment.

Now that Katie had picked up and moved to Puerto Vallarta, Liv could only imagine how she was living her life. She’d read all about the singles scene in PV—and the gay scene, and the theater, and the nonstop music, and the free-flowing tequila. It was the perfect place for someone who embraced the name WildKat. No wonder she called it paradise.

And suddenly, Katie’s promise of a relaxing escape from life and a reprieve from all men sounded ridiculous. Liv shook her head. Why hadn’t she thought this through before hopping on that plane?

Right. Desperation. She’d just wanted to disappear. From the heartbreak, the sudden media attention, the judgment. All of it.

“Where you live, señorita?” A thick accent jarred her back to the present.