Housebroken

by The Behrg

  Blake looked at Jenna, unsure how to answer.

  “Do you think they postponed your meeting?” she asked.

  Blake should be so lucky. “I doubt it.”

  “JT will understand,” Jenna said, her voice unable to disguise her doubt.

  Prior to being offered a position with Symbio, Blake had worked with them on a few projects, consulting with JT and, on occasion, his board. Jenna knew of their volatile relationship and the stress it had induced. Blake not showing for a meeting as important as today’s would go beyond a screaming match. JT wouldn’t fire him; he’d have Blake murdered.

  “I screwed up your day, didn’t I,” Joje said, as if he hadn’t considered the inconvenience kidnapping Blake and his family had caused. “Do you want me to call and explain things?”

  “No!” Blake shouted. Too quickly, he realized, as Joje snapped his fingers, holding his hand out. Drew slid the Cyborg from his pocket, handing it over.

  “Thirteen missed calls,” Joje said. “JT’s your boss?”

  Murder would be too kind, Blake realized. JT would want him tortured.

  “It’s ringing,” Joje said.

  Blake’s face fell. This was all wrong. He had to come up with a plan first, some reason for his absence that JT would at least consider.

  “Remember our rules,” Joje said, placing the phone to his ear.

  “You’re white,” Adam said quietly, staring at Blake. “Your face.”

  “Tell him—tell him I’ve been in an accident . . . I won’t be in until tomorrow, but I wanted him to know. And I’m okay!”

  “You want me to lie to your boss?” Joje asked. “In front of your son?”

  “No! I was in an accident, and I am okay—”

  Blake fell silent as a blaring stream of unrecognizable screaming poured from the phone held to Joje’s ear. Joje pulled the phone back.

  “Hey!” Joje shouted, gripping the phone like a walkie-talkie. “No, wis—hey, no, you wissen! No . . . this . . .” He looked at Blake incredulously, as in this is what you deal with every day?

  He hit the end key, disconnecting the call.

  “Daaghhh!” Blake yelled. “I said don’t call him!”

  The screen lit up, phone vibrating in Joje’s hand.

  “Don’t!” Blake said as Joje answered the call and brought the phone back to his ear.

  “Wissen, oh I’m hanging up! Undohstand? I’m cauwing on behalf of Bwake . . .” A brief pause. “No, that’s—that’s not it. I’m—” Joje held his other hand up in the air in frustration.

  Blake leaned in, yelling into the phone. “I’ll explain tomorrow JT! I can’t talk now. Tomorrow!”

  Joje looked at Blake sharply, ending the call once again. “I said no phones.”

  “I, I wasn’t—I just, it’s my job.”

  “No phones!” Joje screamed into Blake’s face.

  Blake made the conscious decision to keep his feet planted, surprised by the amount of effort it took. He would not let this kid intimidate him. Not in front of his family. “If you’re going to be my voice on the phone, I need you to listen to what I say with exactness,” Blake said. “That’s the only way this’ll work.”

  Joje’s dark eyes seemed to shrink beneath his protruding forehead. His face relaxed, features calming. “No more warnings,” he said, his tic sweeping over his face. “You break a rule, however slightly, you force me to break one of mine.”

  Blake nodded, he understood.

  His eyes swiveled to the closet behind his desk. His .38 Special, an antique handed down from his grandfather who had fought in the first World War, seemed to be screaming louder than JT had over the phone. He needed time—time, the cold steel of a pistol in his sweaty palm, and a beer or two in him to settle his nerves.

  The targets he already had.

  5

  The day passed slowly, but unlike an idle day spent at the lake, this day dragged. It was as if every second were waiting until the absolute last chance to dart the short distance across the face of the clock. A day determined to extract a price for every minute’s passage.

  As Joje relentlessly inquired what the family would be doing, Blake began to wonder himself. What did they do to fill their day? He couldn’t remember when they had spent this much time together, and the awkwardness was beginning to show.

  Jenna ran her seven miles on the treadmill; there was no way Drew could keep up with her on a real run. Blake joined her upstairs, lifting with free weights.

  It was difficult staying focused with Drew’s reflection in the background, a silent stalker on the fringe of a photo. His eyes never left Jenna’s body, and Blake was frightened at the unspoken implications.

  Joje had joined Blake, lifting as well and even spotting him on a few occasions while Adam had silently played his portable video games.

  After the workout, Joje asked what they did next. Shower? Together?

  The simple question caught them so off guard neither Blake nor Jenna had been able to reply. Adam, fortunately, had come to the rescue.

  “They don’t do anything together.”

  They fumbled over excuses until settling on their after-workout routine of going for a swim, and so, for the first time as a family since their move, they ventured out to their backyard.

  The swimming pool was bookended by two hot tubs, one hidden behind a curtain of water from above, the other raised several feet above the pool around a curved stone tower. In the middle of the pool was a small island with a fire pit. At night, you could swim beneath the stars, waves crashing below with only the faint glow of the outdoor lanterns and flicker of flames rising from the pool’s center to light your evening.

  Both Jenna and Blake remained in their workout clothes to one extent or another, ducking into the raised spa. Joje opted to stay out, quietly observing from a patio chair below the straw umbrella hut. His gun never left his hands.

  Drew and Adam had jumped in, playing volleyball with the net that spanned the pool until they grew tired with the amount of work required. Neither of them was very good.

  When they decided to get out, Blake realized he and Jenna had sat across from each other the entire time like strangers in a hotel Jacuzzi, not a single word exchanged.

  They went as a family to take the dog for a walk, dialogue so stilted and tired they stopped trying.

  The TV was turned up louder than normal. Shows Blake had never seen proffered chuckles beneath breaths that were as forced as the conversation.

  Blake tinkered in his office on his laptop for a bit, Joje breathing over his shoulder the entire time. Without Internet, he felt crippled.

  Projects and deadlines floated through his thoughts like clouds he couldn’t grasp. He went through the deck of slides he had failed to present, talking through some of the points with Joje, but found his attention hovering toward the Wi-Fi bar with a slash through it. No connections available. Seemed to sum up his life—with his computer, his son, and his wife.

  After dinner, Conrad dropped her knotted rope throw toy at Joje’s chair at the kitchen table, tail wagging furiously behind her. She never grew tired of the game, and Joje was inclined to indulge her.

  He lobbed the gnarled rope back across the room. Conrad’s feet slipped and slid as she picked up traction on the wooden floor.

  “She likes you,” Jenna said, grabbing the plate in front of Joje and adding it to her stack before returning to the sink.

  Dinner had been anything but normal. The fact that they were eating together as a family was a novelty, but a home-cooked meal, despite being a once-a-year occurrence, had also been befuddled by an almost bare pantry. Mother Hubbard’s cupboards hadn’t gone dry; they had never been filled.

  “Can I be excused?” Adam asked. His plate of scrambled eggs and toast had barely been touched.

  “Sure,” Blake said at the same time Joje said, “Yes.”

  Blake looked up sharply, but Joje seemed oblivious to it. Drew scraped Adam’s eggs onto his own plate as Adam walked pa
st, heading back into the family room.

  “Dogs are so stupid. ”Joje yanked the throw toy from Conrad’s gritted teeth, then hurled the rope back into the family room. His trajectory was timed, the thick twisted rope swinging high and striking Adam in the back of the head.

  “Ow!” Adam cried.

  Blake’s chair screeched as he stood. “Hey, do we have a problem?”

  “We do. You’re putting me in a position I don’t want to be in. Already breaking the rules”

  “We haven’t even seen anyone,” Jenna began. “How could we—”

  “It’s what my Sunday school teacher might have called a sin of omission,” Joje said. “Do you think I’m stupid? That today was just an ordinary day? What was our third rule?”

  Blake looked at Jenna, who shook her head ever so slightly.

  “Nothing changes from our routine,” Adam said from the family room.

  “Someone paid attention,” Joje said. “How much of today would you consider normal routine, Adam? That wasn’t changed on account of us being here?”

  Adam hesitated before answering. “Almost none of it.”

  “If you don’t normally cook dinner? Then don’t cook for us. If you don’t know how to operate the dishwasher, don’t pretend you do dishes every night. If you don’t spend time together as a family, don’t start now. If you don’t like each other, don’t act like you do. If your marriage is a sham? I want to see it. If you fight every night? I want to see it. If you’re sleeping around? I want to see it! I want to see every sick and disgusting thing you wish you didn’t even know about yourself! Are we clear?”

  Yeah, we’re queer, Blake thought.

  The tension in the air felt like a living, breathing entity, choking all hope of normalcy in their supposed arrangement.

  “Since you’ve all broken a rule, you force me to break one of mine,” Joje said.

  “George, we’re trying—we’re learning. Work with us here,” Blake said.

  “You’re weak Bwake. It’s why your dog shits on your floor, your wife resents you, and your son has no respect for you. The consequences were clearly laid out. If I don’t follow them, you make me a liar. And I do not lie.”

  The gun, which had been in and out of Joje’s hands all day, silently appeared, though this time with purpose. The thrumming in Blake’s chest rose to his head; he instinctively moved out from the table, stepping between his son and Joje.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Blake said.

  “Precisely the lesson you need to learn,” Joje said.

  They stood facing each other like gunslingers in the Old West. Only Blake had no gun and was, in effect, begging for his life.

  Joje’s mouth twitched, his right eye blinking furiously. He finally broke the silence, tilting his head down and shrugging, gun in hand. “Tell you what. You broke your third rule, I’ll break my third rule.”

  “Seven days,” Jenna said. “You’re not leaving after seven days?”

  “Correct,” Joje said. “We’ll scratch this day off the calendar and start our week tomorrow. Unless you want me to break one of my other rules?”

  “No, no, that’s . . . more than fair,” Blake said.

  “Generous,” Jenna said from the kitchen.

  “Let’s not have this talk again,” Joje said.

  “What about next time?” Drew asked.

  Blake hadn’t realized Drew had been paying attention to the conversation, though in hindsight, how could he not.

  “Next time they break a rule?” Drew continued.

  His quiet demeanor was a farce, Blake realized. If Joje hated violence, as he had stated—not that Blake believed that for an instant—Drew clearly hungered for it.

  “Next time, we’ll be forced to break one of our other rules, won’t we?”

  6

  Night crept into the home like a silent stalker, slowly making its presence known. Shadows lurking in corners and darting between rooms spun Blake’s thoughts into a torrent of despair. The seesaw rise and fall, a constant shifting of what he should do, how he should be reacting, was set upon a fulcrum where no balance could be reached.

  Did he protect his family by fighting Joje and Drew, trying to eliminate the threat, or by falling in line with his “experiment” and avoiding any fallout?

  What would be the consequence should he try and fail?

  And what would they be if he didn’t try?

  The mental exertion of weighing options where no answer was in sight was exhausting. Blake’s indecision was in itself a decision; he would have to give it more time, hope their kidnappers would grow comfortable and let their guards down should an opportune moment arise. He just hoped he would recognize that moment when it came.

  That evening, they discussed the plans for the following day. It felt good to get out in the open their normal activities, especially after the draining day they had endured. Jenna and Adam had even laughed, reflecting on how torturous seven days like today would have been. Blake wasn’t sure if laughter was the right response but had played along, smiling when needing to.

  Tomorrow would be their first day apart, officially kicking off their grand adventure.

  Joje would accompany Blake to the office in an attempt to save his job. He hadn’t decided on a play that would get JT back on his side but hoped something would come to mind.

  It had to.

  Drew would be following Jenna through her day, bringing Adam along for the ride. It was agreed she would continue running at the home gym, but Joje wanted her to attend her Pilates class, go shopping—a trip to the grocery store was discussed, though that was typically not Jenna’s forte—among the many other errands she had planned.

  With the family being separated, and perhaps in response to Jenna’s illusive errands, Joje presented a system to keep everyone in check, a safety net for him and Drew. Every fifteen minutes, one of them would text the other a coded message to ensure their party was behaving. A response was required with whatever “code” they had come up with. If at any interval one party failed to respond within twenty minutes, allowing for a five-minute leeway, the other party was to assume the worst.

  The repercussions hadn’t been discussed, but there was no question what they might be.

  Blake expressed concerns of areas with no cell service or spotty reception or just one of them forgetting to check in. The plan was so full of holes it was almost guaranteed to go wrong. Joje had simply stated Blake and his family were as responsible as he and Drew. It was a matter of “teamwuhk,” and no amount of arguing would get him to sway.

  At 10:47, they decided to turn in, earlier than normal but close enough not to warrant an argument, not that Blake was expecting to sleep anytime soon. Take away the stress and strain of the day and the spinning mill in his mind searching for solutions, and he still would be missing his Bluetooth earpiece and his phone’s sleep-inducing app. It was going to be a rough night.

  Jenna drained her glass of wine at the kitchen island and set it in the sink. It was her fourth glass, and she was clearly on a buzz. Adam powered down his gaming console and collected the other controller from Drew.

  “Come on, Conrad, let’s go potty,” he said.

  The dog leapt to her feet, collar jangling as she followed Adam to the back door. It was such an insignificant thing, Adam being responsible, but to Blake, it meant the world. Especially after a day like today.

  The back door shushed closed, and Adam ushered the dog into her cage, the rattle of the metal door engaging. “Good girl,” he said, probably slipping a treat in between the gridded bars of the crate.

  Blake eyed the alarm system, which was set in the hall leading to the garage. One of the many things on the to-do list Jenna had given him.

  He hit the lights, following Drew and Jenna down the hall to the foyer. An alarm wouldn’t have protected them anyway, not from the dangers already inside their home.

  It wasn’t until Blake reached the stairs that the problem began.


  “You’re going upstairs?” Adam asked.

  “It’s time for bed,” Blake said, not realizing what his son was asking.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “What’s the problem?” Joje asked, picking up on the exchange. Adam looked, for lack of a better word, guilty. “What is it, Adam? You can be honest. You need to be honest.”

  “I just, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  And suddenly, Blake knew what was bothering his son—his son who picked up on details most kids his age would have missed.

  “You sure about that?” Joje asked.

  “It’s been a long day. We can discuss this in the morning,” Blake offered. He continued toward the stairs.

  Joje raised his palm toward Blake.

  Stop.

  Surprisingly, Blake found himself doing just that.

  “No one gets in trouble if you tell the truth.” Joje hadn’t broken eye contact with Adam, even with his display of power over Blake.

  “My dad sleeps on the couch. At night.” Adam looked down as if ashamed. “We just, we’re supposed to keep our routine.”

  Joje looked at Blake. The sense of excitement, of violence bubbling at the surface, seemed difficult to assuage.

  Blake kept his voice steady. “Your mom, earlier today, asked me to sleep with her tonight. We’re turning over a new leaf.”

  He looked up at Jenna, who stood halfway up the stairs, massaging her head from the headache apparently encroaching. “That’s right,” she said.

  “I think you should sleep down here, Bwake,” Joje said, his eye blinking, mouth twitching. “As much as I’d enjoy watching you sleep together, I can’t accept a lie.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Right now, I trust your son a lot more than I trust you. If he says you sleep on the couch, that’s where you sleep. I’ll stay here with you. Dwew will watch over Jenna.”

  “I am not sleeping in the same room as him!” Jenna spit the last word out like it carried poison.

  Joje was smiling now. “Of course you are. And I know we didn’t discuss this earlier, but we will be restraining you at night. For security reasons. I’m sure you understand.”