by Shelly Pratt
‘It’s no trouble. I’ll take you to town tomorrow if the rain stops to get a replacement.’
‘That would be great. Can I offer you tea before you go?’
‘No, I’d best get back to the missus. I’m sure there will be other people in the village who need my help. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’
‘Please don’t rush back on my account. If the weather is bad, or you’re busy in your village, I can wait until the day after.’
‘Thank you, but I will be here.’
I watch his large frame squeeze out my front door and hurry back to his little car. I smile. I have a friend. One I made all on my own. I close the door and lock it tight. It’s time to get out of my soggy clothes. After drawing the makeshift curtains, I head to the bathroom and strip off my clothes.
The bath tub isn’t like the ones we have in Australia. It’s more like a hot tub set into the floor. It’s deep, not long. I can almost stand in it, but don’t fill it to capacity. I soak my body, calm now that I feel I’ve finally let go of my past. After my soul-bearing tears outside, I actually feel exhausted.
When my fingers and toes start to go pruney I know it’s time to get out. I dress in a long tee and panties, the weather still warm despite the rain. After pouring myself a cup of tea, I head to bed.
I love my bed. I found a second hand four poster at a recyclers shop. It came from a hotel that was doing an upgrade of its décor. For fifty dollars, I reckon I got a bargain. It even has sheer white netting around it that protects from mosquitoes, although it looks more like something Snow White would sleep in. Now all I need is my prince.
As I lie down and listen to the rain pounding on the roof of my bungalow, I know that somewhere Grayson is thinking about me. I touch my lips, remembering how soft his lips were when they kissed me. More than anything, I wish he was here. All I can think about is the magical way we made love, the way he touched me, the way he smelt. He stared deep into my soul as we connected, knowing that it would only make me want him more.
Falling asleep alone only makes me realise that I adore Grayson so much. He’s not a crush. He’s not a fad. He’s the man I want to grow old and grey with. Now, finally, I know.
I know what it’s like to find your soul mate.
Everyone else I’ve ever had a crush on has just been a dress rehearsal for the real thing.
Thirty-One
ALEX
I didn’t think it would happen. I never thought I’d succumb. But like all the other weak, snivelling, pitiful people in the world, I’ve joined the club. I’m broken. That’s what we do to survive, right? We break, we bend, we mould to the person who wants our will to be theirs. It disgusts me to think that these arseholes have made me submit, but when push comes to shove, when it’s my life or their demands, I had to make a choice. And let me tell you, I want to live.
My feet in concrete casts? Fuck me, if that didn’t scare the shit out of me then the winch attached to the boat sure did. These guys were not here to mess around. The torture was slow. Hell, you deprive a person of food and niceties for a few days and he’s going to start begging. The only problem is they want to be convinced. They want to know for sure that you’re not going to change your mind once you return to your life of privilege. Every single thing you promised needs to be assured.
So how was I convinced? They half-drowned me several times until I offered them security. You heard me. I sold myself out. Don’t pretend you’d do otherwise. The only person who I’d doubt would bend to another’s will despite the circumstances is Stavros. Now I have to face him, unable to deliver on our deal. In hindsight he could be the worse of the two evils. He’s unpredictable. No, that’s not true. He can be predicted to be very mean and cruel. Just how much, I’m yet to find out.
I know you’re wondering… how’d it play out, right?
Once my feet were set solid in the buckets of concrete, they dragged me towards the boat. I thought they were going to put me inside. That was until they attached some sort of framework to the sides of the boat. It was weighted down on one side, with a winch on the other.
The guy they call Callum attached a vest to my chest, binding my arms behind me. I looked up to see a huge hook attached to winch. It reminded me of the Peter Pan stories. Only this wasn’t Neverland and there would be no happy ending.
They attached the hook to the rear of the vest. They left me standing on the barn floor, feet set solid, affixed to their contraption. There is no way I could easily lift my legs; they certainly weighed too much to make a run for it.
I watched on in horror as they opened the barn doors, revealing the expanse of the lake on the other side. Both ignored me as they hopped aboard and started the motor boat’s engine. Over the noise of the exhaust, I didn’t hear the whine of the winch as it started to recoil the steel cable. It was only as I started lifting off the floor that I started to worry. I worried some more when my kneecaps felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets as the concrete weighted my legs down and my body rose into the air.
Grayson looked relaxed, the fury I’d seen on his face earlier long gone. Damn, I’d even say he looked… happy.
The boat startled forward as it was put into gear. We made slow progress until we reached the centre of the lake. Was this a dam? Where in the hell were we?
There was nothing around us but trees and more trees. A few cabins dotted the terrain, but I was certain nobody was currently occupying them. I’m sure they weren’t stupid enough to be out in the open if there was even a remote chance that we’d be having visitors. It was just them, and me.
When we reached the middle, Callum cut the engine while Grayson dropped the anchor. Anybody drops an anchor on a boat, let me tell you people, you’re not in for a short stay. Expect the long haul.
I screamed, as loud as I could and certainly much louder than I thought was possible. Callum and Grayson watched on in amusement, letting me tire myself out. They knew. There was no one coming to help me, despite my shouts echoing far into the distance.
When they were satisfied I was finished, they started in with their task of wearing me down. They released the winch, allowing me to slip further and further below the surface of the cool water. I understood what the concrete feet were for. If the cable snapped or they released the hook holding me, I was a goner. Death by drowning—I can’t say it was on my top ten favourite ways to die.
They did this over and over and over again. By day three I was willing to deal. Sunburn, hypothermia and dehydration were all encouraging motivators. I, Alex, have a weakness. I like myself too much to disappear off the face of the earth.
So, what did I offer other than my word? The tapes and the contract. Yes, yes, I was stupid enough to get Stavros to tape some of my more memorable moments with his girls in Chicago, yet I was planning on using them as my own personal pornographic collection. Instead I’m using them to barter with my life.
And, then there’s the matter of my contract with Evie. I offered that up, too. Now they have very indictable evidence against me which could bring charges of rape, battery and assault. Not charges I’m wishing to face in court, let me tell you. Fuck, who knows where Stavros got some of his girls from. I’m sure they could add other things like slavery, imprisonment and kidnapping to boot. And American jails are not exactly the Hilton when compared to the Australian facilities.
Like many others before me, I did what I had to in order to survive. They finally cut me loose. Getting those concrete shoes off was no picnic. They dropped me off at the ER at the Royal Brisbane Hospital. Some sceptical doctor managed to remove them while Grayson and his eager friend went back to my apartment to retrieve their blackmail paraphernalia from my suitcase. The doc was going to call the cops, but I convinced him it was just some bachelor party prank gone wrong. Can’t say he rightfully believed me.
I got home to find everything gone. The place was ransacked. The bastards took my passport as well, which unfortunately for me meant there would be n
o hiding out in some off-shore sanctuary for the likes of tax evaders and professional crims.
That wouldn’t have been so bad except I knew it would only be a matter of time before Stavros came to collect. I waited, hoping that somehow the mess would all just go away, but in reality, time to pay up was overdue.
The call to Stavros didn’t go as I’d expected. He almost seemed… understanding. Although I have to be honest, if some prick came to me with a story like I did, there’s no way on earth I would have believed him, let alone empathised. Perhaps that’s where I should have clued in, but I chose to remain in ignorant bliss.
The second trigger to things being amiss should have been when Stavros asked about my passport. My telling him it was missing only allowed him to be prepared, and there’s nothing worse than a mind like Stavros’s being prepared. It makes him dangerous. Yes, more dangerous than even I anticipated.
Today he flies into Brisbane. I’m to meet him at the airport to discuss our business arrangement. His refusal to come to my apartment hasn’t triggered any red flags, because to be honest, if he’d been unable to fulfil our deal like I just had then I wouldn’t want to show any weakness by going to him. The only reason he’s flown here is because it would’ve taken too long for me to get another passport.
I take a taxi to the International building and proceed through security clearance into the departure’s lounge. I wait, as instructed, at the Mile High Coffee Bar. My espresso is weak and bitter, a mean feat in today’s society of aficionado coffee drinkers. It pisses me off that the minute you cross that invisible barrier between society and airport you’re always guaranteed crap meals and beverages. The same, of course, can be said for the meals served in-flight.
Bitter coffee or not, I still sip it to pass the time, waiting for Stavros to disembark for our meeting. You can bet I’m shocked as all get up when two big burly men in suits approach my table. I eyeball them, daring them to challenge me. It doesn’t take much for this newly character-adjusted Alex to bend to their demands.
‘Stavros requests your presence,’ says one of them. Are you kidding me? These guys could be twins. Dumb and dumber springs to mind.
‘Stavros informed me he would be meeting me at the airport,’ I reply haughtily, as though I really hold all the cards here. One of them gestures with a sweeping arm at the expanse of glass that shows off the runway outside.
‘And here we are.’
‘Fine,’ I snap, getting up to follow them.
They lead me away from the bustling crowds of travellers towards the far end of the terminal. There is a private gate entry only manned by a single attendant. She lets me pass with a brief glance at the documents on her table. I’m not worried, just mildly curious.
‘He’s still on the plane?’ I enquire. They don’t answer, they just keep walking—one in front, one in the back.
We come to the end of the walkway where the plane door connects to the movable stairs. It’s open, waiting for us to board. Stavros’s private plane is not like commercial flights. There are no rows of cattle-class seats. There are no communal toilet facilities. This plane is decked out fit for a king, or at the very least, a president.
I’m led through its interior, past stately rooms and a glitzy dining area. We pass through drawn curtains in the rear of the plane. There are two first-class seats facing each other, a retractable table between the two of them. They have those doilies on the head rests like normal commercial flights do. Stavros occupies one of the chairs, the one with its back to me.
The burly guards usher me towards the vacant seat, and I sit, somewhat unceremoniously.
‘Ah, Alex, so good of you to join me.’
‘Stavros, I—’
‘I don’t need your excuses or apologies, Alex. I think for the most part you’ve done a very dismal job of explaining your fuck-up to me over the telephone. What begs to be seen is just what you’re going to do about it.’
‘Well, I…’
Apparently I haven’t given this too much thought. I mean really, what can I offer to a man who has everything.
‘Just what I thought. So you lose my merchandise, being Evie of course, and I’m expected to go without?’
‘No, that’s not what I—’
‘Silence,’ he imparts quietly, before taking a deep swig of the amber liquid on the table before him. ‘You need to pay up, Alex.’
‘I’ll refund you your money.’
‘I’d expect nothing less. I’m more curious to know just what you’re going to do about the girl.’
‘I could find you another.’
‘Impossible task,’ he dismisses me, ‘You know, I’ve been thinking of an alternative.’
He eyes me carefully, which makes me instantly uncomfortable. Something in his look sends chills down my spine. I look towards the beefy guys blocking my exit through the curtains and suddenly I realise, albeit a little too late. I try anyway.
Lunging from my seat, I jump up from my chair, suddenly desperate to get off this plane. I’m forced back into my seat by Stavros while his two bodyguards secure my wrists to the plush chair. Next are my ankles, secured to the metal foundations that are bolted to the cabin floor. I’m not going anywhere. Well, not anywhere Stavros doesn’t want me to be.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I demand, completely out of breath.
‘Collecting my dues.’
‘I’m not your fucking toy, Stavros.’
‘I beg you to reconsider.’
‘Or what?’
‘Well, let’s just say from our recent conversations that I know you’re particularly fond of living.’
‘Are you threatening me now?’ I screech.
‘Not at all, dear friend. I’m giving you options.’
‘Sounds like a lose/lose situation to me.’
‘Look at it as a chance for rediscovering yourself.’
‘Hardly seems fair,’ I scoff.
Somewhere in the cabin I can hear the whir of motor mechanics and the whoosh of doors as they’re being closed. Panic overrides all attempts at staunch bravery. Stavros watches on, amused as I writhe and wriggle in my seat, attempting to break free of the chains he has me in. Prisoner.
The two men leave us alone to face off. Clearly Stavros has the upper hand, but I’m hoping to convince him otherwise.
‘I can’t leave the country, I don’t have a passport,’ I smirk.
‘Oh, you mean this one?’ He flashes me an American passport. It looks brand spanking new, as it should since it was only made recently. Inside displays the photograph the Australian government kept on file from when I submitted my application for my passport here some two years ago. Obviously whoever has produced this fake has hacked into our systems. The name on the document is not mine, though.
‘Declan Childs?’
‘Yes, your new name, do you like it?’ Stavros sneers.
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’
‘I’ve never been rather fond of jokes.’
‘Well this has to be because there is no way in hell this is happening.’
The cabin moves, just a little jerk forward. My eyes widen as I look out the aeroplane window. We’re actually moving. I keep telling myself this can’t really be happening, that I haven’t actually woken up yet. This meeting hasn’t yet taken place—it’s just a vicious manipulation of my mind worrying about all the things that could go wrong today.
The terminal building moves further away from us. I can see people in the windows, looking out on the tarmac, waiting to see if their plane is ready yet. I’m sure they can’t see me through the porthole window. I know it’s impossible, yet I scream. I buck and scream, tears threatening the corners of my eyes.
I’m not escaping a harrowing torture this week only to fall into worse hands today. How the fuck did I get so stupid?
Stavros moves next to me, bringing my focus back to him. He presses an intercom, which is answered promptly.
‘Yes, Mr Stavros?’
; ‘Can you collect my glass for take-off please, and I’d like that syringe I filled a short time ago.’
‘Right away, Mr Stavros’
There is something oddly familiar in the voice that answers him. I’m watching every single move he makes, unable to tear my eyes away. It’s like a bad television program and I’m the unrealised star. A young lady walks through the curtains with a tray in hand. It’s Madeline.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Oh, I believe you two know each other? Sorry, Alex, but this little darling works for me. Now that her end of the bargain has been fulfilled, she’s now released from duty once the plane lands.’ I stare at her in disbelief. The smirk she wears is insulting to say the least.
‘You venomous little bitch! You goddamn sneak!’ I spit my fury at her, disbelieving that her loyalties are with Stavros after all this time.
‘Sneaky? Yes. I must say she’s kept a very good eye on you, Alex.’
‘Please, you have to help me,’ I beg. She ignores me, all smiles for Stavros. ‘You don’t understand, I have to get off this plane; I don’t belong here,’ I plead again. Still she’s oblivious to my plight. Stavros takes a syringe off the tray and replaces it with his empty glass. Madeline winks at me and leaves me alone to face a man whose perversion knows no bounds.
‘Thank you,’ he smiles. He looks at the syringe, drawing my own eyes to it.
‘What the fuck is that?’
‘Just a little something to make you relax.’
‘Don’t you dare jab me with that thing!’
‘Tsk, tsk. Who are you to make demands, Declan.’
‘I’m not fucking Declan!’
‘Oh, but you will be.’
‘We’re just about to take off it seems,’ he says, looking out the window. ‘I’d best give this to you now.’ He leans forward and uncaps the needle. Without any hesitation he jabs me clean through my shirt into the muscle in my upper arm before plunging the liquid free.
He sits back and watches it take effect. It doesn’t take long. I hardly notice the wheels lift up off the tarmac. I feel weightless, fuzzy—happy almost. Euphoric.