Hey everyone, I am alive! I can't believe it's been almost a year since I last updated, and I am so sorry it took me so long, I honestly hadn't realized it had been that long until I got a couple of new followers on this story – shoutout to GiggleSlut and SouthernMyths for basically pulling my head out of my butt. Also, thank you for the review as well, SoutherMyths. I recently had arm and hand surgery, so my typing is pretty rough right now, and it hasn't really been edited, but I wanted to get something out here. So…here is chapter twenty-four…I hope everyone enjoys. Leave a review? I'd love to know what you think, and it'll help to remind me to update. 😊 -N

Chapter Twenty- Four

Taylor Meeks rang in the New Year by herself with an entire bottle of red wine, ignoring the phone as it rang, and pretending each knock on the door was silent, as she surrounded herself in her misery. Two months ago, her husband had taken their daughter to Florida, where they had yet to return from, thanks to Taylor keeping a rather large secret to herself – Stu Macher was not dead. 2005 marks ten y ears since Billy and Stu tried to slaughter their senior class, and Taylor wasn't sure how she should be feeling. It's like each day she just goes through the motions without truly being there. Ignoring Dewey's knocks, his fifth time coming by the house since 7am, she popped the cork to her second bottle, "looks like it's just you and me, Billy," she drained the freshly poured glass without taking her eyes off the photos she had scattered across the kitchen table.

January 5th bloomed bright and sunny, the opposite of how the brunette felt as she pulled on a pair of black dress pants and a dark teal sweater for the first day back at Woodsboro High. They had lost a teacher in November, taking away Taylor's free period to teach a class of seventh graders. Ignoring the fridge once more, the teacher filled her second cup of coffee before draining it as she watched the backyard for any signs of life. Sometimes she really wondered if she was going crazy, as if Stu was really going to attack her. And if he did, let him. Rinsing the cup out, she slowly made her way to her old mustang, groaning as her body protested, showing Taylor just how much it was out of sync with her life at the moment. The groan quickly turned into a few chosen curse words when the car wouldn't start. The words continued to flow until the engine puttered to life, making her worry the entire drive to the school. She ignored Dewey as he tried to wave her down for their morning coffee routine, something she quit attending after he gave her the information about Stu and Randy left. Pulling into her parking spot, Taylor leaned her head on the back of the headrest, "just another day," she sighed before grabbing her bag and heading towards the classroom.

"Hey, Mrs. Meeks."

"Jill, hi."

The seventh-grade brunette reminded the teach a bit too much of Sidney, but she tried to push away negative thoughts as the student spoke, "me and Mandy wanted to start a movie club. Would you sponsor us?"

"I'm sorry, Jill. I would, but with Mrs. Derrickson leaving, I'm taking over cheer as of today."

"You're going to be the cheerleading coach?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you have to like be a cheerleader for that?"

Taylor looked to her left, where the voice had sounded from, "good morning, Mandy. And I was on the cheer squad during high school."

"I bet you were captain."

She couldn't help but give Jill a fond smile, ignoring Mandy's scoff, "actually that honor went to my best friend. Casey."

-xXx-

School went along as normal, with Taylor feeling more alive as the days passed. She woke up on January 20th, the night after she declared she was no longer living to be just a wife. Stretching, in hopes of easing some of the stiffness in her shoulders, she glanced at the clock, then her cell, before heaving a sigh at the time. "Happy birthday to me." She was so used to it by now that Taylor didn't even blink at the blood red roses sitting on the corning of her desk once she arrived at the school. "thanks, Stu." Sliding the unopened card into her purse, Taylor moved the flowers to the open area by her feet, before pulling out the laptop she bought herself for Christmas. With a sigh, she stared at her email list, the most recent in her inbox seeming to taunt her, "fuck it." She typed along as she spoke the words, "Alexander, I would love to fly to New York this weekend to discuss your offer. Yours, Taylor Meeks. No. Taylor Loomis-Meeks." She jumped as the bell sounded, hinting send quickly before putting the computer away and joining her normal daily routine.

After school, she eyed Dewey warily as she walked towards her car, hoping he'd stay across the street. "Mrs. Meeks!" She froze, noticing the yell had caught the sheriff's attention. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

She shook her head, "not at all. What's up?"

"I forgot to bring these to class, but I made you some cookies. Happy birthday."

"Jill, thank you. I bet they'll be delicious."

The seventh grader blushed, "I hope so. Oh, there's my bus. Bye!" She gave a wave, eyes back on the man who was impatiently waiting for the light to change so he could cross the street. Ignoring his shout of her name, she got into the mustang, cringing as the gears ground together, before pulling out for the first of two stops.

The ride was silent as she feared anything on the radio would drive worse thoughts into her head. She was slow to sit down in front of the slightly weathered tombstone, not able to shake the feeling of eyes on her back, although the cemetery was almost always empty. The vase less roses fell to the ground in front of her, the petals brushing against her thigh, "happy birthday, big brother. I can't believe we made it to 28. Well, almost. I brought you roses, well Stu did. Just don't tell anyone," she chuckled slightly, which almost instantly turned into a small sob, "I'm so angry that he's alive. Not because he's alive, I wanted…I want it to be you. I miss you. Everyday, and we spent 18 years together. Why," she broke off, needing to take a breath to calm down, "why didn't you tell me? About mom. About how you felt. She shot you. She killed mom. Well, mom was crazy, so I don't' blame her for that, but you. You're my brother. You're supposed to be here. You're supposed to teach Ellie all the things I tell you not to. I want to hate you. I really do, but I…I can't. My marriage is falling apart. I'm seeing a therapist. Hell, she put me on medicine. Apparently, I'm depressed. And I have PTSD. Who knew? Bill, I need you," she broke up the sobs taking over to the point that she couldn't think.

She laid there crying, head pounding, until it was dusk, and another car was joining her, bringing her out of the numbness she put herself in. "Taylor, are you okay?"

She looked up, meeting brown eyes, she was quick to stand up, looking unconcerned, "I'm fine, sheriff."

"Don't be like that. I said I was sorry."

She side stepped his outreached hand, getting closer to her brother's resting place, "you have nothing to apologize for. You were just doing your job."

"Taylor, I'm worried about you. Gale and I came by, we called –"

She interrupted him, "I had nothing to say," she bent down, picking up a single rose, "excuse me, sheriff, but I have somewhere to be."

"Will you at least call your husband? He's been trying to get ahold of you."

"He knows where I live," the door shut as she got in, effectively ending the conversation, before she sped out.

-xXx-

"Alright, final spot, and she's all yours." Taylor smiled at the man as she lifted the black pen from the paper for the third time, before he officially handed over the key, "can I ask you a question?" At her nod, he continued, "how did you have this much cash to buy the 350z? It's our finest model."

She glanced at the red Nissan for a moment, "when I lived in Hollywood my boss tried to kill me. The company paid me a lot of money not to sue. Have a nice day." She left the balding man speechless as she got into her new convertible to make the two hour drive back home, where she quickly began to pack her suitcase.

6:17 the next morning found the 28-year-old dropping items into her make up bag as she finished with them. Thankfully, Fridays were always spirit days, which allowed her to pair her maroon Woodsboro shirt with a pair of bootcut jeans and sneakers, making it even easier for her after school plans. Picking at her toast, Taylor drained her fourth cup of coffee, before discarding the meal she had taken two bites up and quickly doing the small number of dishes.

The day passed by quickly, although at Taylor's final glance at the clock, she wanted to curse. "Alright guys, we've got about five minutes left, and I just wanted to let you know that I will not be here Monday. You will have a sub; I left a note that you can work on your final projects, so please make sure you bring what you need. It goes without saying, but cheer practice is also cancelled. Tara, as captain, I'm trusting you to let everyone know. The bell rang dismissing class, "have a good weekend, everyone!"

She was quick to pack up her bag, before grabbing her purse and heading to the car, momentarily pausing at the sight of Dewey leaning against the building. He pushed off when he noticed her, "where is your car? Do you need a ride?"

She kept walking, "stalking is illegal. As a cop, you should know that."

"Are you excited?" Her eyes flickered in her direction, so he continued, "for Randy and Ellie to come home?" Noting her confusion, he paused next to a red Nissan when she did, "he said he called you. They'll be here tonight…who's car is this?"

"mine," she shut the back door, hands now empty, "wish I would've known. I won't be there."

"why not?"

"I'm going to New York."

"Why?"

She looked at him before slipping inside the sports car, "that is really none of your business, Sheriff. Have a good day."

-xXx-

Just before midnight, Taylor exited her first New York cab, making her way up the eight steps to the entrance of the plaza hotel. "good evening."

The brunette smiled at the woman behind the desk, "hi. Check in for Taylor Loomis-Meeks."

Glancing around at the lavish lobby, while the lady typed, she was in awe, knowing this hotel was a lot fancier than her original place to stay. "Here we go. You'll be in the Edwardian suite on the 19th floor," she motioned with her hand and a man dressed in a tuxedo appeared, "Jacob here will show you way, Mrs. Loomis."

"thank you," she allowed the younger man to take her suitcase and laptop bag, before following him into the gold-plated elevator. "Jacob, out of curiosity – how much does it actually cost to stay here?"

"The Edwardian suite is $859 a night, ma'am." He ignored the way her breath hitched, "and we have been told to open all of our amenities to you, free of charge."

"Amenities?"

"Yes. Our spa, dining room, pool, any private tours of the city, and our gym." He paused as he opened the door to her suite, "here we are, ma'am." He allowed her to enter first, before motioning to the doors on the left and right, "your coat closet and powder room. Here is the living room," he led her through another door to reveal a king-sized bed, "your bedroom." He motioned to another short space on her right, "your closest is through there, as is your private powder room."

"Wow. This is definitely bigger than I planned."

Jacob chuckled, "we get that quiet often, ma'am. Now, Mr. Ludwig has scheduled a massage for you tomorrow at 10am, but if you need anything else, don't hesitate to call for me."

She gave a little smirk, "you specifically."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm the butler assigned to this suite, as so, I will be taking care of any of your needs."

"Alrighty then. So, what are the chances of me getting food right now?"

-xXx-

Taylor woke up at 7am the next morning, unable to sleep any longer. Getting dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a dark grey oversized sweater, she worked on grading assignments for an hour before calling down to room service for an order of yogurt and granola with berries and coffee. It wasn't even ten minutes later that Jacob was knocking on the door, although he looked surprised at her clothing choice, he hid those emotions pretty quickly with a smile, "good morning, Mrs. Loomis."

"Good morning, Jacob. And please, call me Taylor."

Jacob soon left, allowing Taylor to slowly eat her light breakfast before she went back to grading for another forty-five minutes before organizing everything on the table in the living room and heading downstairs to her spa appointment. It wasn't until 1:15 that she was seen in the lobby again gathering looks dur to her converse and laid-back style. Choosing to visit the statue of liberty and the empire state building, she ignored the way her phone rang multiple times, not wanting to ruin her short vacation with an argument. Leaving the cities tallest skyscraper, she headed to Central Park to not only wander, but to follow the guidance of sites she was told to see by Jacob. Taking photographs with the literary monuments and visiting the Central Park zoo was soon followed by a giftshop run, where she bought a pencil for each of her students and a New York inspired blanket for each of her seven classes, a fun event already forming in her mind on how a students could win the handmade prizes. Later that afternoon, she grabbed an early dinner at the Loeb Boathouse, ordering a red win braised lamb shank and cheesecake.

Ending Saturday with the final parts of her grading, Taylor slept in until 10 the next day, before ordering the largest coffee possible as she took a shower and began getting ready for her lunch meeting, pairing a deep green dress with a white blazer and heels. Meeting Alexander Ludwig was different than she expected. From the emails she had not pictured such an intimidating person, but then he smiled, "Miss Loomis, it's such a pleasure to meet you." She blinked as he kissed both her cheeks and pulled out her chair, his French accent still bouncing around in her mind.

"You, too. Please call me Taylor."

"As you wish," he ignored the menu, watching as a waiter poured two glasses of wine, "I hope it's okay. I ordered us a bottle of their finest Merlot."

She chuckled, "trust me, I'll never turn down wine," she paused to take a sip, "tell me about yourself, Mr. Ludwig."

"Alex, please." Placing the linen napkin in his lap, he let the words flow, "I grew up traveling between France and Queens. My mother inspired me to start my business, after telling me the story of how my great-grandmother was killed in 1890. By Jack, the Ripper."

She blinked, "I'm sorry. What?"

He smiled, "that was my reaction, as well. I dove in trying to discover just who Jack was, which led to my publications."

"That's just wow. I don't even…I mean, I have no words."

He picked his menu up, "shall we decide."

Taylor was silent as she stared at her menu, "Okay, I have a confession – I have no clue what any of this is. I took German."

Alex grinned, gently taking the lamented pages from her, "might I suggest the six-course tasting menu. It changes each day, so it's a welcome surprise."

"You're the expert – lead the way." Once the meal was ordered, she continued, "so what made you start your company?"

"I just kept noticing the lack of so-called antagonist-based novels. I've always wanted the side of the bad guy, which led me," he paused allowing the first course to be deposited in front of them, "to you."

They ate the first three courses in silence, only speaking about the food. It was during the fourth that the dam broke, "I'm not an antagonist…despite what people tried to prove in my life. So, if that is what you're looking for, I think you chose the wrong girl."

The dark-haired man set his fork down, staring intently at the Woodsboro native. He stared long enough to make her begin to fidget, before he shook his head, picking up the discarded utensil once more, "No, I have the right woman" He didn't elaborate until they were finishing the final course, a chocolate souffle with brandied cherry ice cream, "I could've called Sidney Prescott. Hell, I could've called Randy Meeks or Deputy Dewey, but I want you."

"Why? I mean, Dewey would've been told no by his wife. Sidney wouldn't said no, and Randy, well, I never know what the hell that man is thinking. But it seems like I'm the last choice."

"Not at all, Taylor. You have always been my first. I know your background, your strength, and I want to show the world." He bent down to his briefcase, locks snapping open, "I don't expect an answer tonight. Or even tomorrow at the official meeting, but" he handed her a stack of papers, "I can be very persuasive. That is the contract. I am prepared to offer a $20,000 advance for the first book, plus royalties, as well as possibly adding $10,000 to each sequel."

She fingered the ink filled pages, "and you want how many books?"

"three. Maybe four, depending on the happy ending clause."

"What?"

"It's what we call the possibility of additional books based on the reader's happiness level. Do they want to know how you're doing since 2000?"

"So threeish books at $20,000…where I talk about seeing all my friends get butchered?"

Alex Ludwig winced, "maybe what you were doing? How you felt? Aftermath. The behind the scenes."

An eyebrow rose, "like what?"

"Like your relationship with your brother. Your life. He might've been a killer, but he was still your brother. And people want to see the human side of things."

-xXx-

Taylor spent the rest of Sunday going over the contract. No fine print. No secret clauses that she could find, but she knew she should probably talk to her husband. She ignored that little rational part of her brain, choosing to make multiple pro and con lists to the point that she fell asleep on the couch in the suite.

Waking up at noon, she threw her cell phone on the charger, hoping that her students were behaving, as she hopped into the shower after ordering a burger and fries. Getting dressed in a pair of dark red tights under a sleeveless high-necked black dress, Taylor touched up her lipstick before getting into yet another yellow cab.

The meeting was winding down after two hours of discussions, planning, and semi-professional interviews with people Alex Ludwig had probably already hired for her series. Michael, a skinny pale man, who towered over her tall frame would be one of her editors, with Amy, his wife, who was as equally pale but stood at less than 5 feet tall, played second fiddle. Aaron, a still in college senior, working as an intern, would be the illustrator, helping to add "flavor" when photos weren't able to do so. The only thing Alex left undone was finding her agent and publicist, although he did give her emails of a few of the best he knew. "That's all we have, Taylor. We've pitched our idea, our plans, and it's best we have. It's up to you on whether you want your voice to be heard."

Her eyes narrowed at Alex's final sentence, "Hell. Give me a pen."