Cuffing Her

by Emily Bishop

  I think I can handle that better than I can handle his father.

  “We’ll see,” David says. “Now, why don’t you go changed into a swimsuit?”

  “A swimsuit?” I give him a puzzled look.

  “You have one, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” The agency issues one for every nanny along with the uniforms, just in case the nanny has to go swimming with the child.

  “Good. So, change into that while I get all the stuff for your bath. When you’re done, you come back here and just hide over there.” He points to the tower in his fortress. “And don’t come out until I tell you the bath’s ready.”

  “Okay.”

  I leave the room to do just as David told me, changing into my one-piece black swimsuit and then putting on a robe. When I come back, I hide in the tower, trying not to peek as I hear him coming in and out of the room and pouring stuff into the tub.

  I wonder what he’s putting in there. Juice? Soda?

  Finally, I hear him calling. “Bath’s ready, Sabrina!”

  “Okay!”

  I head to the bathroom, gasping as I see what I’m supposed to soak in.

  I can’t tell exactly what’s in there but it seems like there’s tomato sauce, soy sauce, mustard, vinegar, flour and chocolate syrup. At least, those are the stuff I can identify and smell. I can see an empty bottle of cooking oil and an empty bottle of maple syrup in the corner so I guess they are in there, too.

  Boy. This is going to be one sticky, smelly bath.

  “You did tell Mrs. Wilson you were getting some stuff from the pantry, didn’t you?” I ask David.

  “No,” he answers. “Why should I? My dad is the one who gives money for the stuff that’s in the pantry.”

  He has a point. Still, I’m sure Mrs. Wilson won’t be pleased when she sees all those missing condiments.

  “Do you still want to go in or are you backing out now?” David asks.

  I’m sure he’s hoping for the latter.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but I’m going in.”

  I take off my robe, hanging it behind the door, then put one foot in the tub, gripping the edge so I don’t slip and grimacing as I feel the mixture against my skin.

  It feels gross already.

  I put my other foot in, then slowly lower myself into the tub up until the mixture is up to my chest. Even with my swimsuit on, I can feel the mixture sticking to me, rubbing against my skin. And it does not feel good.

  I’m tempted to say ‘yuck’ but I don’t, knowing that David is expecting that.

  Don’t worry, Sabrina. It’s just food.

  “Lower,” David says. “Like the stuff should be up to your chin.”

  Really? I don’t complain, though, just obeying and trying not to get any of the stuff in my mouth. Sure, they’re edible and I love them when they’re mixed with food but I’d rather not eat them like this.

  Thank goodness this isn’t an eating challenge.

  This really is such a crazy idea, not to mention it’s such a waste of good stuff.

  I don’t say that out loud, though, smiling at David. “So, ten minutes, right?”

  “I’ll start counting now.”

  I nod then take a deep breath, doing my best to relax and shut out all the smells and textures as I wait for the time to pass.

  Just ten minutes, Sabrina. You can do this.

  Then, just when I feel like everything is going to be all right, I hear someone approaching, along with panting.

  Zombie.

  Shit.

  “Now, Zombie, stay away,” I warn him.

  “Why not?” David grins as Zombie sniffs the mixture. “I think there’s still room for him in the bath.”

  As if Zombie has just read David’s mind, he jumps in, causing a splash. I scream. I regret it, though, some of the mixture going in my mouth as Zombie moves around.

  “Zombie,” I scold him between coughs but he just keeps moving and splashing as David laughs.

  Just when I think things aren’t going to get any worse, he turns around and starts licking me.

  “No! Zombie!”

  “What on Earth?”

  At the familiar voice, I look at the doorway, surprised as I see Randall standing there.

  Shit. I did not want him to see me like this. Why does he always see me at my worst?

  “It looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a mess again,” Randall says, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Significantly worse than yesterday, I must say.”

  “I agree.”

  At least, Randall’s presence has made Zombie stop licking me. In fact, he’s stopped moving, just sitting there near the other end of the tub.

  “So, this is another challenge?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you get yourself into this time?”

  “Ask your son.”

  He looks at David.

  “Just a bunch of stuff from the pantry,” David answers with a shrug.

  “And Zombie,” I add.

  “I see. No wonder it smells like food in here, except for Zombie, of course.”

  “Trust me,” I tell him. “It does not taste like food.”

  “How long is she supposed to be in there?” Randall asks David.

  “Just two more minutes,” David says. “If she comes out before then, she loses.”

  “I won’t come out,” I assure them.

  “Okay.” Randall taps his fingers on his arm.

  Like with the burger challenge, he seems to be anxious for me to finish.

  Finally, David puts down the clock in his hand with a sigh. “All right, time’s up. You win.”

  “Great.” I smile. “Hear that, Zombie? Time to get out of the tub.”

  He doesn’t budge.

  “Fine. I’ll get out first since I have to towel you off so you don’t make a mess.”

  I try to get up but I can’t.

  I look at David. “Any help?”

  He, too, doesn’t budge, sulking.

  “Here.” Randall offers his hand.

  “Thanks.”

  I grab his arm and try to get up but the tub is too slippery. I end up slipping back into the mixture, dragging Randall in with me. At the same time, Zombie bounces out, causing a splash. He starts shaking, getting drops and puddles of the bath mixture all over David–who runs out of the room–and Randall.

  “Oops,” I say as I stare at him, his shirt now splattered with all the sticky, smelly stuff. “It seems like we ended up in the same mess… again.”

  He says nothing and I start to worry that he’s angry when all of a sudden, he starts laughing.

  I laugh as well. What else can I do?

  “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s you who’s trying to get David out of trouble or if it’s the other way around,” Randall says.

  “Sorry,” I tell him with a sheepish grin then look at my body. “I guess we have a lot of work to do to clean ourselves up.”

  Just then, we hear David screaming.

  “Zombie, no! Stop!”

  Oh, shit.

  I make another attempt to get out of the tub, this time succeeding, then reach for my robe.

  “But first, we better catch Zombie before he makes a mess of the whole house.”

  Requests

  Randall

  I don’t remember clean feeling this good.

  I heave a sigh as I lie on top of my bed in my robe, staring at the ceiling.

  It seems like I’ve just been through the washer, having spent more than an hour in the shower and then in the tub. For a moment there, I thought the smell of the soy sauce and the mustard would never come off.

  I sniff my arm. Finally, I smell more like a human than a piece of marinated meat.

  As I put my arm over my head, I wonder if Sabrina has been able to get rid of the smell. She was soaking in that tub, after all, whereas I just fell in. She’s even dirtier and smells worse than Zombie since that dog had his fur to prote
ct him and he managed to shake off most of the mixture, which ended up on the carpet of David’s room, on the walls in the hallway, on the stairs and on some of the living room furniture before we managed to catch him. But the mixture probably clung to Sabrina’s skin.

  Sabrina’s skin.

  I still remember how she looked like in that swimsuit, which fit her like a glove. Strangely, in spite of all that stuff she was coated in, she still looked amazing, the piece of clothing showing off her slender shoulders, the curves of her breasts and the other pair of curves past the small of her back, which are just as firm and rounded – a cute ass that I just wanted to squeeze and bite into.

  That ass.

  But then I saw something else, too – scars.

  They were on her back, peeking above the curve of her swimsuit. If the back of her swimsuit had been any lower, like most of those I’ve seen, I would have seen the length and extent of those scars. As it was, I could only see the tips. They’re brownish, too, which means they’re fairly new. Even so, I can’t help but wonder what caused them and maybe more importantly, who. After all, there’s no way such scars on the back can be an accident.

  Then there’s her arm, too, which seemed to have been injured not too long ago.

  What happened to her before she came here?

  I go to my computer, checking the file that Carol sent me in hopes of finding a clue, but it isn’t helpful at all. All it says is that Sabrina is new at the agency and that she dropped out of Youngstown State in Ohio after studying Biology for just a year.

  Why? If she was good enough to enter college, why leave? Sure. It could be because of financial reasons but Sabrina doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to easily give up. If she really wanted to finish college, she would have found a way. So, why didn’t she? Why just drop out and become a nanny? Usually, the nannies I’ve employed haven’t gone to college or even tried and most of them say they became nannies so that they can provide for sick parents or put younger siblings through school. According to this file, though, Sabrina doesn’t even have a family, both her parents long deceased.

  Why did she decide to become a nanny? Why go all the way from Ohio to Texas just to be a nanny? And what was she doing during those two years between dropping out and joining the agency?

  Something is off. There’s too little information. Her file is too clean, almost like she just appeared out of nowhere and can easily disappear into nowhere.

  I look at my phone, wondering if I should call Carol’s number. I still have her card. But then I remember that Carol and Sabrina are friends.

  I pick up my phone. There’s still someone else I can call, and I’m sure he can help me.

  After the second ring, Gil picks up.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Remember how you ran a background check on Peter Nelson before I made him VP?” I ask.

  “Yup. Why?”

  “Because I need you to do another background check for me, this time on Sabrina James and I need it ASAP.”

  The sooner I find out what she’s hiding, the better.

  ***

  “I’m not hiding anything.” Sabrina shows me the hands she’s been holding behind her since she entered my office. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  “Nervous?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “Is that why you won’t approach my desk, too?”

  “Well, that’s because I’m not so sure how I smell.” She sniffs her arm. “I’m pretty sure I got rid of the smell of the tomato sauce but I feel like I can still get a hint of soy sauce.”

  I’m tempted to offer to smell her but I don’t.

  “I’m sure you smell fine,” I say instead. I tap my pen on my desk. “But that’s not the reason you’re nervous, right?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I guess I still am feeling a little guilty about last night, about pulling you in, I mean.”

  “It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

  “No, but I still feel responsible. Like you said, I caused trouble.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant at all. I was just worried that David is being more of a bad influence on you than you are being a good influence on him – I mean, look at this stuff he’s making you do – but I’m sure things will turn around. No need to apologize.”

  “Still. I thought I’d apologize by bringing you some coffee.”

  “Coffee?”

  She’s not holding any mugs, though.

  “Are they invisible?”

  She chuckles. “No. I left them on the table outside just in case you didn’t want them.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Go ahead. Bring them in.”

  She leaves the room and returns with two mugs, placing one on my desk.

  “It’s the usual,” she says.

  “Please sit.” I gesture toward the chair. “Come to think of it, we didn’t get to finish our coffee the other day.”

  “You’re right,” Sabrina agrees. “The past two days have been quite chaotic.”

  I pick up my mug and take a sip. “Well, if this is your apology, then apology accepted.”

  She smiles.

  “Is that all you’re worried about?” I ask her, setting down my mug.

  “Well…” She sets down her mug, too. “I was wondering if you had some free time today.”

  “I think I have some after lunch. Why?”

  “You see, David told me about his third challenge.”

  “I hope this one’s not disgusting,” I say.

  “No, it’s not, but it’s a bit difficult. He wants me to beat him at a video game.”

  “A video game?” I look at her in surprise.

  “Yes. He said girls usually suck at video games so I should prove we’re not by beating him. After that, the deal’s done and we can just get along.”

  I lift my mug again. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “I’ve never played video games. We didn’t have an Xbox or a PlayStation or a Wii or any of those.”

  We? So she did have a family. At least she grew up with someone.

  “I don’t know the first thing about playing video games.”

  I nod. “I see the problem.”

  “Luckily, we aren’t playing until Friday night because he can’t play video games on weeknights. Even so, I need to practice and if I’m going to practice, I have to learn first. And I was wondering if you could help me with that. You know, just teach me the basics.”

  “The basics?”

  “He didn’t tell me what video game we were going to play but I should be fine if I just know, like, what keys to press or get a feel for the controller. Or maybe we can go through all the games in his collection if there aren’t that many. But we won’t play them all.” She waves her hands. “Just like check them out.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You want me to play some video games with you?”

  “Yup. That’s it. If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

  I want to say yes in a heartbeat. My mind is screaming it. But the thing is I don’t know much about video games myself. Like Gil said, I’m no good with modern technology unless it’s incorporated into gym equipment. I’m especially bad with modern gadgets, including game consoles.

  “Do you mind?” Sabrina asks, looking at me hopefully as she holds her mug in both hands.

  Oh, what the heck. At least, I have played a video game before. Once with David. We could learn together.

  “Sure. We can have a go at it after lunch.”

  Back to Childhood

  Sabrina

  How on Earth do people play these things?

  I ask myself the question as I sit on a bean bag in the den, a controller in my hand.

  For the past hour, I’ve been shooting at zombies coming at me from all directions. I keep dying, though, getting devoured by them. Right now, I’m at Wave 5 and I’m down to just one life, which means I’m close to Game Over. Again.

  “Ugh.” I press the buttons. “I hate zombies.”

  From the
corner of my eye, I see Zombie’s ears perk up.

  “Not you, Zombie,” I tell him. “I know you don’t eat brains.”

  I’m not the only one who’s struggling, though. Randall, who’s sitting behind me on the couch, seems to be doing even worse, judging from the grunts and curses he’s been giving.

  “I give up,” he says finally, putting his controller on the table as the words ‘Game Over’ appear in red on his side of the screen.

  I stay alive for just a few seconds more before dying, the same words flashing on my side of the screen.

  “I guess we’re both not cut out for this, huh?” I put my controller beside his.

  “You can say that again.” He sighs. “I thought video games were supposed to be fun but this one’s damn hard. How does David play this for hours?”

  I give him a puzzled look. “If you didn’t like video games, why did you agree to play with me?”

  He shrugs. “I thought it would be fun.”

  In spite of myself, I blush, looking away.

  “Well, clearly, it isn’t. You’re getting frustrated and I’m getting frustrated.” I sigh. “If only I had stuff like this growing up.”

  “What did you have?” Randall asks.

  “Trees. Chickens. Pigs.”

  “You grew up on a farm?”

  Oops. Did I say too much?

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I confess since I can’t take my words back.

  “With your parents or grandparents?” Randall asks.

  Why is he being so inquisitive all of a sudden?

  “Parents,” I tell him, shifting my legs.

  “But they’re gone now?”

  “Yup. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. Sorry. I guess I’m just curious about how you were, your childhood.”

  “It was simple but still fun,” I say as I fidget with my hands, remembering. “We didn’t have all this technology but I was never bored. Even when I was just sitting up in a tree, I was having fun.”

  “Yeah. Kids get bored so easily now.”

  “How about you?” I ask him. “How was your childhood?”

  “Okay, I guess. My parents liked to travel. A lot. And they liked hosting parties, too.”

  I glance at him. “Well, that’s what rich couples do, don’t they?”