He comforted himself with his photos, turning to them each night, pulling the box out from under the bed, surrounding himself with the image of his angel, immersing himself in visions of the lives that they could have together. He gazed at the picture of her with her belly swollen with child and imagined that it was his seed planted in her, his family that was being created. He would make a wonderful father, a loving husband, working hard to give that child the safe and happy life that he had not been granted.
“Jacob,” called the orderly from behind the glass of the office adjacent to the day room.“You have a package.”
They were allowed to receive packages in here. The boxes were opened behind closed doors, their contents sorted and reviewed, and once deemed safe to the stability of the mental health of the patient, as well as not being dangerous to their little society as a whole, the recipient was allowed to accept his gift from the outside world.
Jake crossed to the window, where each morning and night the lunatics would line up and obediently swallow their small cups full of pills before being sent back out into the group. This time, instead of pills, he was handed a small cardboard box, the tape having been cut open, its insides rifled through by the orderly. It felt like a violation, as if he could have no surprises and no privacy, his life examined for his own safety.
“That little girlfriend of yours sure sends you some strange presents,” said the orderly, peeking over the edge of the box.
Jacob covered the top of the box with his arm, as if attempting to shield its contents. It didn’t matter to him that this guy had just been examining everything in there, making his own judgements. He didn’t want to discuss the things in there with anyone. Politely thanking the guard for the box, he scurried away, down the hall to his room, and rushed inside, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.
With his back against the door, he let himself slide to the floor, the box cradled gently in his arms. His breath was tight in his chest with excitement. Had she done it, sent him the things that he had asked her for?
She had seemed confused when he finally felt that the time was right to ask her for what he really wanted, what he treasured more than anything in the world.
“Jake,” she giggled through the phone,“if you need something to jack off to, why don’t I send you some real porn instead of stupid old fashion magazines. Or, if we want to really have some fun, I can take some naked selfies and mailthose to you. Really give those filthy old orderly perverts a thrill.”
“No,” he stammered, frustrated. It was always about sex with her. Every conversation that they had, whether it be on the telephone or on one of her visits, eventually turned to what type of underwear she was wearing, or which corner they could sneak off into and not be noticed for a few minutes.“It’s not….” He paused, trying to think of the right words to say without raising her suspicions.“I like the photography,” he said, keeping it simple, close to the truth but not entirely truthful. He had asked her to send him a stack of the new fashion magazines. He knew that the Fall lines had come out, and that each designer had done a full spread in one magazine or another. He hoped, in searching the glossy pages, that someone had taken the time to turn the lens on his angel, perhaps a story on her pregnancy, and her image would fill the pages in front of him, her words, her voice. It was the only way that he could be with her from inside this place, and it had been too long.
Folding back the sides of the box, Jake reached gingerly into the dim space inside, trailing his fingertips along foreign textures, attempting to identify the items inside before extricating them from the shipping container. Confused, he furrowed his brow as he ran across something silky, almost wet feeling on the top of the pile. Pinching it between his fingers, he lifted it from the box and held it out to the light. Black satin panties, small black bows made of lace holding the edges together, dangled from the end of his finger. She had worn them—he could tell—and sent them to him to freshen the memory of the scent of her body.
He set them on the floor near his knee, ignoring them for now. He would need to hide them later, along with everything else, to keep the nurses or the orderlies from stealing his treasures from his room again. Reaching back into the box, he withdrew a stack of Polaroid photographs, held together in a bundle with a red rubber band. He pulled the band off of them, flipping quickly through two dozen or so images of Gina’s body contorted into ridiculous poses that he assumed that she thought were sexy. She licked her lips, pinched her nipples, and penetrated her body with all sorts of kitchen acquired sex toys.
He set the photographs aside, digging deeper into his present, searching for the true treasure at the bottom of the box. Slipping his fingers along the edge of the box, he counted them as he passed their spines on the way to the bottom. One, two, three, four…. There were five.Five glossy paged portals to the outside world—where his angel walked among the beautifully false and the powerfully ignorant.
He lifted them gently, discarding the box on the floor, as he cradled them in his lap. The light from the bedside lamp reflected off the cover of the top one, a painfully thin black girl on the cover, looking as though she were about to burst into tears. A thin, white dress hung from her shoulders, her frame delicate and fragile as glass beneath the muslin. Made him sick, that this should be the standard of beauty that society holds so dear. He wanted to feed her, take her to a hospital, not be her, and not make love to her.
Moving past the image on the cover, he gently turned the pages of the magazine, scanning each page in search of his angel. The level of his disgust rose with every sunken cheekbone, the razorblade sharpness of every pointed elbow. He skimmed them all, his eyes flitting past them, uninterested in what society called beautiful. He knew true beauty, absolute loveliness of mind and body, and he searched relentlessly for her, growing frantic as he tossed the first magazine into the box, reaching for the next in the pile.
Here, he found her, buried under pages and pages of emaciated women, displaying their bodies as cheap whores in an effort to sell perfume that cost more than an average man made in a month. His breath caught in his chest as he was overcome, emotion welling up inside him as he ran his finger along the curve of her chin, the soft pout of her delicious lips.
The article caught his eye, and he began to read. Details of her life since his entrapment in this place were to him morsels of the most delicious delicacy. After receiving an award for dramatic fashion photography, involving a gala party at a gallery downtown where she was pictured in a fitted black dress and heels, fully showcasing her body, ripe with child and ready to burst, she was stepping back from the business. She was taking a hiatus to spend time with her family after the birth of her first child. She had moved into a new home, a place in the country where she would be comfortable raising her daughter, Mia.
Turning the page, his stomach dropped, all blood leaving his face. His heart beat heavy in his chest, his fingers trembling as he held the magazine tentatively by its edges. Before him was an image of a perfect family. The young woman, a soft and knowing smile on her lips, gazing down at the child in her arms, its cheeks rosy as it slept. The young man, his arm wrapped protectively around his bride, had a look of pride in his eyes.
He wanted to tear the page, to rend their happy family asunder. Rage boiled beneath the surface of his skin, hatred resurrecting from where it had been very shallowly buried. His brother, his stupid, evil, fucking brother, swooping in,taking the thing that he coveted most, and claiming the prize as his own. He didn’t deserve to be happy, living the life that Jake had dreamed about. He was the one who should be locked up and punished as a thief.
Jake’s jaw ached, as he ground his teeth with frustration. He wished that motherfucker had died that night in the bunker when he had shot him. They could have gotten away and ran off together to start their life. It would be he, Jake, with his arms around his precious family, protecting them from the evils of this world. He spat on the floor, the saliva pooling in his mouth. He thought he would
be sick.
Standing, he stumbled across the room, the magazine dangling from his hand. He made it to the desk, yanking the drawer open, jostling the few items that were inside. He was not allowed to have scissors or sharpened pencils or ball point pens, as the doctors were always afraid that one of their patients would try and commit suicide, which would mean a whole afternoon of paperwork for them when they could be sipping gin on the veranda after sunset. What he did have, after it had been deemed impossible for him to cut his own throat with it when left alone, was a thick, black Sharpie marker. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, spitting it onto the floor at his feet and slapped the magazine down on the desktop, open to the page of his angel with his wretched brother wrapped around her.
He ran the tip of the marker over his brother’s face, eradicating him from the picture. He didn’t deserve this happiness, any of it, and Jake could not stand to see the smug look on his face. As he blacked out his eyes and filled in the void of his slightly open mouth, his mind was flooded with memories of that night. While his angel lay waiting for him to come to her, to take her in his arms and carry her away from the dark, his brother had lay at his feet, dark red blood pooling underneath his body.
He should have died.
There was no way that Jake could get to him, not now, not from here. It would take forever for his plan to convince the doctors to let him get the fuck out of here to work. It felt hopeless, his dreams of ever rescuing his angel from his brother’s clutches. He sat down hard on the mattress, the magazine open on his lap, the pen clattering to the tile floor of his room.
A tear of despair ran down his cheek, dripping off his lip,and landed with a splash on the picture of the happy couple. Well, not exactly on them, but in the hands of the tiny baby in her arms. Jake cocked his head, an idea beginning to form in his mind. He sniffled, wiping away the tears from his face, and stood up from the edge of his bed, staring down at the sleeping child in the photograph. He couldn’t kill his brother, not while he was stuck in this fucking place, but he could make him suffer.
Chapter 10
Alex raised her hand, shading her eyes from the bright, afternoon sun. The park was mostly empty this time of day, and she liked the quiet this time gave her to think. Life had been chaotic since Mia was born, she seemed to take up all of their time and energy. She was a happy baby, full of smiles and giggles for both her parents, but the demands of keeping her fed and cleaned seemed to fill Alex’s days and nights.
Rick had been talking about going back to work. He had taken a few months off to spend time with them, not wanting to miss even a single hour of Mia’s first few weeks of life, but he was growing restless. Alex’s father had hired him to run a protection service that he had purchased in the last year, and with Rick’s help, the company had taken off right away. The media coverage of his brother’s arrest and the story of his and Alex’s misadventures had been a boon of free advertisement for the service. People saw Rick as the hero that he was and knew that he would only hire men who were just as competent a body guard as he was.
Alex was apprehensive about trying to do all of the things that were required of a mother by herself while he was gone at work each day. Even though she was a hard worker, the lack of sleep from the baby’s penchant for wanting to play for an hour after each late night feeding was starting to get to her. She often relied on Rick to do all of the housework, the shopping,and the cooking of their meals. She didn’t know if she could do both.
Maybe she would talk to Rick about hiring a housekeeper. Somebody to come in for a few hours a day, just to help with the cooking and cleaning. He would say that they couldn’t afford it, that it was her upbringing talking, but she knew that it would help her out immensely. She would be able to focus all of her energy on Mia, instead of rushing about, trying to do everything, spending her days in a haze of chaos. She would talk to him tonight.
The sound of a child’s laughter ringing out caught her attention, and she turned to see her daughter digging heartily into a mud puddle with both hands.
“Oh,” cried Alex, jumping up from the bench that she had been resting on near the sandbox where Mia had been playing, dashing over and scooping her daughter out of the mud. The child had an amazing ability to get herself into a troublesome situation in a matter of moments. She must have inherited it from her mother.
“Oh baby girl,” Alex cooed at her daughter, a broad smile on her face,as she wiped the mud off of Mia’s cheek. Her tiny pink dress was now soaked with muddy water, her white lace socks laden with caked on filth. Alex settled her on her hip, mindless to the dirty water soaking into her own pale yellow dress. Motherhood had taken away any ideas of vanity that had lived inside her; her world now revolved around this tiny miracle.
The girl laughed loudly, her shrill giggle filling the air around them both. She was thrilled, smacking her tiny, muddy hands against her mother’s chest as Alex carried her across the grass, headed for the car.
“Yes yes,” said Alex, laughing as mud splattered the side of her face.“It’s very fun to get dirty, isn’t it? Let’s get you home, we can take a nice bubble bath and both get clean.”
…
“Hello?” Rick called from the hall, walking through the house that he shared with his wife and child.“Where are my girls?”
Mia squealed, hearing her father’s voice. She tossed huge handfuls of bubbles up into the air, celebrating his arrival as he entered the room. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, smiling down at them, pride and love radiating in his smile.
Alex lifted a cloth, dipping it into the warm, sudsy water that both she and her daughter were sitting in. She often bathed with Mia, finding it easier to get the child clean if she was in the water with her, rather than leaning over the edge of the tub, wrestling her wriggling daughter and getting soaked in the process.
“We decided to play in the mud at the park today,” she said, gently wiping the wet cloth along Mia’s skin.
“Oh we did, did we?”he replied, leaning over to the top of Mia’s head, and then turning his attentions to his beautiful, naked wife. Cradling the side of her face in the palm of his hand, he pressed his lips against hers. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss, making sounds of pleasure as his tongue darted into her mouth to taste her.
“I missed you,” he said, lingering to caress the side of her face before sitting down on the floor near the edge of the tub.
“I know what you mean,” she said, her eyes taking in his taught stomach, the muscles of his torso contracting as he lifted his shirt over his head. He tossed it aside, reaching into the water to retrieve his daughter, who squealed with delight as she slapped her wet hands against her father’s broad chest.
“Don’t worry,” he said, retrieving a towel and wrapping it around Mia.“I’ll take care of you later.” He stood, leaning the wet baby against his shoulder and walked out of the bathroom.“Enjoy your bath.”
She laughed, lying back in the tub, letting herself slide deeper into the sudsy water. She got very few moments to herself when she could truly relax, and she took full advantage of each and every second that she was rewarded as if it were a precious gift. Leaning her head back, she pulled the tie from her long, red hair, letting it spill into the deep water where it swirled around her head. She arched her back, her full breasts emerging from the water, small, translucent bubbles clinging to the skin of her nipples. She closed her eyes, listening to her breathing and the beating of her heart. She was happy, content with where the world had put her.
Trailing her hands along her body, slick with soap and lethargic from the warmth of the water, she explored the once familiar territory of her skin, made soft by motherhood where once it was toned and sleek. Her hips had widened, giving her a sway in her walk that Rick said was wickedly sexy. Her breasts were full, heavy with milk, shining in the light spilling in from the high window. Her belly, which had once been flat and taught, now had a slight paunch, which she loved; it was a reminder to
her each day that she had created a life.
Sitting up, she lifted herself from the bath, the water cascading off the curves of her body, splashing around her like warm Spring rain. She reached for her robe, wrapping its plush softness around her naked body, and stepped out into the hall. She could hear Rick, soft laughter coming from the direction of Mia’s room, and she tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to alert him to her presence.
He sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, still shirtless as he pulled a small, pink sock over the girl’s tiny foot. She protested, yanking the foot out of his grasp and sticking in in her mouth, laughing profusely as he fought to pull it back from her and complete the task of dressing her. She hated clothes, often waiting until she was fully dressed and the offending parent left the room before stripping herself back down to the skin that she was most comfortable in.
“Hey you,” he said, nabbing the foot and slipping the sock onto it.“We’ve got to get you all pretty for Mommy. She’s having a bath to relax, so you and I have to get dinner ready before she gets out.”
“Too late,” Alex said, laughing as her loving husband and daughter both turned at the sound of her voice.
“Well hello,” said Rick, smiling wickedly as he trailed his eyes up and down her body, taking her in—wrapped in nothing but her plush terrycloth robe which clung to her wet skin, revealing the outline of her silhouette. Reaching out toward her, he trailed his finger along leg, drawing an imaginary line from her ankle bone up her calf, pausing to circle the sensitive spot at the back of her knee and then slipping his hand underneath her robe to tickle the inside of her thighs.
The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 3 Page 6