Finding Forever (32 page)

“Rule eleven . . .” Peter sat beside Taylor in the backseat as the SUV sped down the cactus-lined highway. “It states, ‘I will drink 64 ounces of water a day and take mineral baths.'”

“So this is like a baptism?” she asked as the security guard parked at the edge of a white pebble beach.

“A baptism,” Peter said, “is a silly religious ritual. This will be a medicinal bath. Since this lake has a very high salinity level, it offers many anti-aging and healing benefits.”

Taylor followed Peter out of the vehicle. An orange glow shimmered off the expanse of water spread across the desert landscape in front of them.

Peter looked back at the guard. “Could we have some privacy?”

“Whatever you'd like, doctor,” he said.

“We'll be back in a bit.”

Her sandals crunching on the gravelly sand, Taylor followed Peter's shifting steps some fifty yards across the desolate beach to the water's edge. Another crunch. She stopped and looked down to find a dried-out fish skeleton under her foot.

“Gross!” She one-hopped away, dodging the dozens of other dead fish she now realized lay scattered on the beach.

“You're safe,” Peter assured her. “A couple of years ago, the oxygen levels in the water got too low, partly because of a spike in salinity. There was a massive fish die-off.” He picked up one of the dehydrated corpses and squeezed it between his hands. It crumbled into powder. Peter smiled. “It's just nature.”

The anxiety that twisted Taylor's stomach from being alone with Peter in a fish graveyard was at least somewhat canceled
out by the freedom she felt. It was the first time she had left the Kensington compound.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Okay,” she shrugged.

Peter untied his robe and slid out to reveal tight-fitting exercise shorts. A wave of relief came over Taylor.
He's not naked.

As he stepped into the water, she tried not to stare at his pale, scrawny body, but she couldn't help it.

“Don't be shy,” he said.

When Taylor disrobed, Peter's eyes brightened.

Though the summer air felt hot and dry on her skin, Taylor crossed her arms in front of her chest to shield herself from his icy gaze.

“Take a soak,” he said, falling backward with a splash, laughing like a child.

Taylor dipped her right foot in, surprised at its warmth. “It's actually hot,” she said.

“Just about ninety degrees this time of year.”

Taylor stepped in until she was waist deep and squatted down, letting the water envelop her shoulders. A splash came up into her mouth. “Blech,” she spat. “So salty.”

Peter lapped the water over his blemish-free skin and rubbed his hands over his face. “About twice as salty as the Pacific. And a lot warmer.” He waded an arm's length from Taylor. “Back in the day, they used to call this the ‘Hollywood Riviera.' Celebrities like the Marx Brothers kept their yachts here. It was a celebrity playground.”

“Then what happened?”

“They abandoned it, went on to the next thing.” His expression turned from gleeful to forlorn. “Hollywood has always been obsessed with the
new
thing.”

Peter looked up at the stars that just began twinkling in the twilight, then at Taylor. “Do you ever worry about that happening?”

“What?”

“Being abandoned when you're no longer young, no longer the new thing?”

“I've thought about it. Just the nature of the business, of life really.”

“But it doesn't have to be, you see? That's why you're here. With me.” He floated on his back. “Darwin had it right. We must always evolve. We can change things.”

In any other scenario, watching a man floating faceup in a warm bath of natural salt water on a starry summer night might have been the stuff of romance. But instead, it inspired much darker visions in Taylor's mind. After all, Peter was short, with hardly any muscle on his bones.

I could kill him.

Taylor stared skyward and saw it clearly playing out like it might in one of her movies. Hit him on the head with a rock, then hold him underwater until he stops breathing. She could swim off into the darkness, across the shore and get help. Escape.

“I said, ‘Let's go!'”

Startled, Taylor stood in the water. Peter was already on the shore in his robe. “It's getting late.”

Taylor wrung her hair dry. Her attack would have to wait.

When they got back in the car for the ten-minute drive back to the compound, Taylor flexed her acting muscles.

“Thank you, Peter. Tonight was magical. And, well, thank you for saving my life.”

Peter flashed a self-satisfied glance at his grateful disciple.