‘Not exactly,’ she said, but from his point of view it couldn’t look great. It wasn’t great. She’d been having the hottest and most terrifying experience of her life, and here he was – exactly the same.
‘Have you been working here long?’ he asked. ‘I’m in several times a week, but I’ve not seen you.’
Hayden was tall – but then so was anyone next to her. He had ash blonde hair and a narrow nose but he was... the plain to her plainer. No one would ever measure up to Rushe and Flick had known that since before he’d thrown her down on her parents’ doorstep.
‘About six hours,’ she said. ‘But I’m not banking on my long term career prospects.’
‘Not if your last customer was anything to go by,’ he said. ‘I promise to give you a glowing reference if required.’
When Hayden smiled she copied. It was somehow automatic to return the gesture, though it felt like politeness rather than divine will.
‘Do you have plans for dinner?’
He was asking her out. ‘No.’
‘Could I tempt you into trying the new Italian place down the block? I can pick you up from work so you won’t get lost again... if you want to say no I understand.’
‘No,’ she said, and he nodded. ‘No, I mean...’
In reflex, she reached to his hand and the touch of him was... nothing. Hayden’s fingers curled around hers. He was holding her hand, just like that. This was normality. This was what people did.
People didn’t cry while standing naked at the side of a road because a thug slid his fingers between theirs. When Rushe had held her hand, it paralleled what she imagined reaching the summit of Everest would be like. When she’d pointed it out he’d pulled it away and tried to scrub her skin from his.
As Flick looked up to see Hayden smiling at her, she saw how simple it was, how easy it was to express an emotion. Hayden was happy, so he smiled; end of story.
Hayden was a good person, a nice person, who would never be mean to anyone, and in her processing of these thoughts she saw his gaze slip to her chest. But it quickly came back to her eyes and she wanted to ask him what he was thinking about. She wanted to know if Rushe was right. But Hayden would blush and babble, and do what any normal man would do.
If Flick dared ask Rushe what he was thinking about anything, breasts or not, he’d bend her over and show her exactly what he was thinking. There was nothing normal about that.
‘Are you ok?’ he asked.
Flick realised she’d been standing here with his hand in hers for about a minute, and she hadn’t said a word.
Convincing herself that her time with Rushe was over, that there would never be a future for them Flick decided there and then that there could only be one responsible course of action. She had to move on as though none of it had ever happened.
So while Flick felt nothing electric between her and Hayden she knew this was sane. This was normal; this was the route her life had been supposed to take.
Without Rushe this was the best she could get. So before she could talk herself out of it Flick hurried to speak.
‘Yes,’ Flick said. ‘And yes I’ll go to dinner with you.’
Hayden ordered his drink to go and they made plans to meet at the end of her shift outside the shop, which she couldn’t really argue with. He would want to know that she wasn’t going to stand him up again, and Flick doubted it was much fun sitting alone in a restaurant wondering if your date was going to show up or not.
Once you knew that you couldn’t have the person you wanted, it didn’t really matter who you ended up with, that was her reasoning. Maybe Flick could show Hayden some of the things she’d learned. Maybe she could learn to be a better lover with him too. But it wasn’t the sex that Flick missed.
When Flick thought about Rushe she thought about how he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. How he stood guard when she took a shower, and how he anticipated her needs before she had them.
Rushe was responsible, and he was good, and just because his life hadn’t started well didn’t mean that was the sum total of him. If he let himself, or if he had let her, he could have seen what goodness lay in him.
Possibly too much time had passed, he’d learned these behaviours of protectionism from a young age. Yet, in that motel room she’d seen those barriers fall, and she knew he would never believe he could be good for her, but she believed it, and by letting him walk away she’d let him down.
But there was nothing she could do about it now. She couldn’t go after him because Flick didn’t know where he was. If she could find Victor’s place again it was as likely that Rushe was no longer there, or worse, he might no longer be anywhere, and then she’d put herself in danger without hope of him coming for her.
But Flick couldn’t think like that anymore. Her affair with Rushe had been a blip in regularly scheduled programming, because tonight she was going out with Hayden and if things worked out, her life wouldn’t have missed a step... just gained an extra one that no one could ever know about.
‘Your mind is elsewhere.’
Flick had laughed at Hayden’s jokes when he’d made them, and she’d listened closely when he spoke about his family. But she couldn’t remember any of their names, relationships, or occupations.
The restaurant was lovely. He’d picked her up on time. He’d given her a corsage to wear on her wrist that matched the pink of her uniform.
Hayden was considerate, and had planned for what was to come, having booked a table and pre-ordered wine. But he couldn’t plan away his date’s distraction.
‘No,’ she said with a wide smile. ‘I’m having a good time. I just have some things on my mind.’
‘Like your job,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, but how did you end up in the coffee place? You have a degree.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve just had a lack of luck I think.’
He nodded to the flower on her wrist. ‘You have luck now; I’ve heard they warn off evil spirits.’
That did make Flick smile. ‘Good. I could use the back up.’
‘You’re a very beautiful woman, Felicity,’ he said, reaching over the table to take her hand. ‘I was disappointed we missed each other the last time.’
Hayden was too polite to point out they hadn’t missed anything, she hadn’t shown up at all. ‘Yes.’
‘I hope we can do this again, continue to see each other. I know you have things on your mind but I’ll... I want to be patient. I think we could have something worth waiting for.’
And if it wasn’t so cheesy Flick might have been touched. She was touched. But... she wanted him to get up come around the table and yank her to her feet. Flick wanted to be thrown down and shouted at for not keeping her head. Rushe would never let her be distracted, he’d tell her to always be on guard. That was the kicker; she wanted Rushe, only Rushe. No amount of telling herself that she had to accept he was out of her life could console her to the fact.
But Hayden wasn’t Rushe, and no man in her future ever would be.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I have had fun, and I’m sorry if I’ve been... elsewhere. I’ll get things back on track, soon.’
‘We could have dinner this weekend,’ he said, with an edge of hope. ‘Is that too soon?’
Flick shook her head. ‘That sounds lovely.’
Hayden paid the bill and walked her out. He offered to take her home, but she assured him that she was within walking distance, and waited with him while he hailed a taxi. He’d leaned in to kiss her, and Flick had closed her eyes and let him but... fireworks weren’t in her future either. A nice man, and a nice kisser, this was her future.
Looping her gypsy purse around her wrist, Flick wrapped her wide scarf around her shoulders, and held herself in her own embrace. It had been seven days since she’d seen Rushe and the marks of their exploits were fading from her skin. Every morning she checked in the shower to see another bruise had faded; his fingerprints no longer marred her skin.
She was shedding him from her
body, just as she had to shed him from her mind, and from her heart. The memories were so vivid, but most of their adventures still seemed like dreams. Had Flick really let him eat her for lunch on the kitchen table in the shack? Had she really asked for more after he ejaculated into her mouth?
The Flick that her family saw, Hayden, and her colleagues at the library, and now at the coffee shop saw, wasn’t the Flick that Rushe had seen. She wondered if he’d known what was within her, as she’d known what was in him.
Flick saw goodness and light inside a man who claimed to be nothing but darkness. He’d seen a bold, uninhibited lover in the body of a woman who had never been anything but plain. If there had been a point of no return, she’d missed it. From that very first question, when he’d asked her if she was going to let him fuck her, the spiral had grown sharper and steeper. Even now when walking back from a date with another man she thought about Rushe. While Flick wondered if he’d care about her dating someone else, she had to remind herself that he would never know, because she would never see him again.
A grey van squealed as it turned into the street, and with the way it lurched it had been lucky not to tip. The street was quiet and dark, so the noise was conspicuous, and under normal circumstances Flick wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But after her adventure with Rushe she wondered about other possibilities. Were the people in the van running from something? She imagined them in the midst of a car chase, or fleeing a robbery scene.
Tightening her shawl, she smiled, and looked to her shoes again. A long hot bath would soothe her feet, which had blessedly been saved from heels for most of the last few weeks. Then she’d have to get up, and go back to the coffee place in the morning, and if she didn’t buck up—
When the screeching of wheels sounded again Flick looked up just in time to see two ski-masked men leap out of the grey van, which had careered to a halt beside her. The men picked her up, and Flick had no time to scream, because a hand was clamped over her mouth. They bundled her into the van, and it started moving again at speed before the door was all the way closed.
‘What? No. No!’ she demanded, and reached for the door. But one of the masked men grabbed her wrists and bound them together with a length of rope, as she tried to resist the other held her down on the floor.
Stuck on her back on the floor, Flick had no room for movement, and when one of the men planted his foot on her shoulder, she was restricted further.
The one not standing on her took off his mask, and when she recognised John; her head fell to the floor with a thump. Being free hadn’t lasted, and now she had no assurance that Rushe would be at the other end, not like the last time John had picked her up.
‘Thought you’d appreciate us mixing it up,’ John said. ‘And we knew you’d never fall for the “Rushe is in trouble” thing again.’
‘He’s going to kill you,’ she said without doubt of its veracity.
‘Might be difficult,’ John mused.
The other goon sat on a fold down chair opposite, and he didn’t take off his mask, but he didn’t seem to be listening either.
‘Why?’ she asked John.
‘He’s in trouble,’ John said with a grin, and she wanted to kill him herself. ‘For real this time, but you know what they say about the boy who cried wolf, so I figured this was easier.’
‘People saw me,’ she said. ‘They saw what you did on the street.’
‘A quiet street with its lights busted out, I doubt it, and you don’t live in the best of areas... which I suppose you know, given what just happened. People keep themselves to themselves... besides the plates are phony.’
‘I was on a date with my boyfriend who will call me later. When I don’t answer he’ll know something is wrong.’
‘Long term boyfriend?’ John asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, feeling triumphant.
‘That didn’t walk you home and screw you to the wall.’
‘He has an early day tomorrow,’ she said, looking for an excuse.
‘Yeah,’ John said. The top of her head was against the front seats that John looked over, she guessed to watch out the windshield. ‘Guys usually let women with jugs like yours go to bed alone, just so they don’t miss their alarm clock.’
‘You won’t get your money again,’ she said. While Flick didn’t expect them to pull over and let her out on the basis of her declaration, she couldn’t just lie here doing nothing. ‘Does Rushe know? Does he know you’re bringing me in?’
‘Nope,’ John said, still looking forward.
‘He’ll be angry.’
‘I think that’s the point.’
‘What kind of trouble,’ Flick asked. ‘You said he was in trouble.’ Flick thought she might as well ask this time around.
‘The bad kind,’ John said.
Flick didn’t have to ask about the good kind because she’d met him, and mated with him a few million times. ‘Is he hurt?’
‘Do you always talk so much?’
Flick thought about some of the things she’d said, and heard, of late. ‘Until Rushe tells me to be quiet.’
‘Now I’m telling you,’ John said.
‘You don’t know the secret password.’
When his attention came down to her, Flick deliberately averted her eyes. Let him think what he wanted; she was done playing mouse. Her strategy didn’t have the desired effect, whatever she’d expected that to be, because the rasp of adhesive snapped her head back, and with a smug grin John ripped the duct tape from the roll.
‘No, I didn’t—’ The tape came over her mouth, and he pulled her hair from it before pressing it down.
‘Much better,’ he said. ‘Get comfortable, you’ll be down there a while.’
The rollercoaster it seemed wasn’t quite finished, and this time she’d be on her own. Rushe would be beyond livid... if he was still alive.
Chapter Ten
The journey took hours; Flick felt every single pot hole on the road as she bounced on the hard metal of the van floor. Every bump drove the boot heel of the man standing on her deeper, but it didn’t matter how she wriggled, he only pressed harder.
Rushe had paid her ransom, if she’d needed any more proof that she was right about him caring for her, that was it. But here she was going back to the place he’d saved her from, and she had no idea why, or what they wanted with her this time.
She’d prayed for the journey to be over, because half of her body cramped and ached. That was until they slowed and she recognised the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels. Now Flick wanted to stay on this floor and on the road. She’d put up with the pain rather than go into that building again. But no amount of shifting and squealing through the tape moved the men, and why should it? These men were safe. They were workers completing an assignment. This experience was probably what all of the women in that basement went through. The terror. Strange men grabbing you, hauling you around, throwing you down, and dragging you up, being bound and gagged, and probably blindfolded too – though this time Flick had been spared that indecency.
The van lurched to a halt, and her heart hammered in her chest making her dizzy and lightheaded. But Flick couldn’t suck enough oxygen through her nose to combat her faintness. The rush of heat to her head made her close her eyes against the stars fluttering in her vision. When the drag of the van door opening assaulted her ears, her head rolled, but she was already being heaved out, and that was when Flick saw it. They weren’t at the front of the building, they were at the side, and the stairs they lugged her on descended. She was being taken downstairs.
Flick didn’t realise she’d lost consciousness until a slap jolted her head; blinking up another slap came, then another. Trying to lean away Flick realised she was on a chair, a metal chair, her hands were tied together at the back of the chair, at her lower back. When Flick tried to kick her legs she found out they were tied too. A gag across her mouth made her retch, the taste of blood mixed with the acid of vomit that roiled in her throat.
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‘I told you nothing can be done.’
The voice laced in its European lilt was decidedly Simone, but Flick couldn’t see much in the darkened room. A light hanging low in front of her gave Flick a view of nothing but shadow beyond. Still, she struggled to recover from her fainting spell.
‘You awake, little girl?’
If she hadn’t felt ill before, the sound of Skeeve’s voice would have done it. Flick could tell by the cold draught over her chest that her uniform was ripped. Letting her head loll forward, she saw that everything but her nipples were on show, and they peeked over the torn fabric when she breathed deeply.
‘You’re down here now,’ Skeeve cackled. ‘You’re goin’ out the back little girl, sold to the highest bidder.’
‘I can do nothing with her,’ Simone said.
‘Keep her alive.’ The indifferent voice Flick recognised as Victor’s. ‘For a day or two.’
‘Then?’ Simone asked.
‘She’ll have served her purpose, won’t she?’
With another slap, and a tug on her nipple, Skeeve dissolved into the shadow, and with the scrape of metal on wood, a heavy door slammed. Flick could see nothing but the light; she had no idea how big the room was. She had no idea if she was alone, or when they would come back. Rushe wasn’t here, and if he came back, if he saw her here... he’d do anything they asked of him.
Flick tried to escape her bounds, but it had been fruitless. No one had come back. But she’d heard screaming; the feminine wail of desperation from beyond these walls; walls that kept Flick imprisoned in contradiction of her will.
Their screaming was nothing but a pathetic attempt at begging for mercy from the merciless. Flick felt useless, and she was so pitiful that she appalled herself. She couldn’t do anything but sit here and wait, wait for them to do whatever they wanted with her.
Hours passed and her body bawled in the agony that it hadn’t yet recovered from since her journey in the van. In this forced position on the chair, Flick’s discomfort only grew. Her upper arms were bound to the top corners of the chair back, and her knees were tied to the sides of the chair, leaving her legs wide open at a horrific angle. But her pain faded as she listened to the vicious cackle of torment punctuating the shrieks of women begging for their lives.
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