Jack and Djinn

by Jasinda Wilder

  Bile hit her teeth. She hated this. When she first met Ben, she’d enjoyed it. He’d been kind. Pretending to be, at least. Back then he pretended to care whether she enjoyed sex. Now he’d stopped pretending, stopped caring.

  But now other sensations assaulted Miriam. Her skin tingled. Not from Ben, not from pleasure, or even pain. No, this was a tingling of heat, as if her skin was tightening from the presence of a nearby flame. She tried to ignore it, but the sensation of heat was all-pervasive. Ben’s tempo increased as he neared his release, and the pain of his body slamming against her became fierce; as the pain increased, so did the heat coming from somewhere deep within her.

  She felt the pain, but with each passing second she felt the heat even more. Heat. Fire. Anger. Disgust.

  She felt him quicken, felt his hips pound against hers and hold there as he finished inside her. Then she felt another bolt of disgust and hatred and self-loathing roll through her, accompanied by an explosion of heat. It was as if she was standing too near a campfire now, the heat baking her, washing over her in thick, roiling waves. Ben drew back and pushed in once more, and Miriam felt his seed inside her, and the knowledge that he never thought about protection hit her like a hammer.

  She was on birth control, of course, and had been since she realized he’d never bother caring whether she was protected or not. She had herself tested regularly as well, but that was more reactive than anything else and no protection from disease. And now, the anger inside her that Ben just didn’t care, never had and never would, became something more than mere anger. It became rage. White-hot and bitter. The bizarre sensation of heat emanating from within her became hotter as her anger increased, until she was sure she could feel it crisping the skin and hair on her arms. She couldn’t understand how Ben didn’t notice it. He grunted once more, then finally rolled off, turning away from her to his side, already unconscious, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow. He could fall asleep instantly, anytime, anywhere. She envied him that; she would sometimes lie awake for hours, waiting for sleep to come.

  The heat and the anger continued to billow off her, but as she tried to focus on it, she realized it wasn’t just heat, wasn’t just…physical sensation. It was something more, something deeper, as if some circuit in her soul had been tripped, as if the slow buildup of anger and disgust had triggered an explosion inside her.

  Miriam sat propped up with the sheet around her chest, wondering about the odd sensation she’d just experienced. Maybe she’d only imagined the physical heat, the feeling of fire crackling inside her.

  Eventually she pushed the mystery away and dressed as quietly as she could. Ben was snoring, but he was a light sleeper. As she slipped her shoes on, she noticed a cell phone sitting on the bedside table.

  She picked it up, puzzled; this wasn’t Ben’s phone. His was an older-model Blackberry. She knew his phone all too well since he was always on it, sending a text or checking sports scores. He was always complaining about it, too, saying he couldn’t wait to upgrade because it was obsolete. The phone sitting by his bed, however, was brand new, a next-generation iPhone, just released. She checked his pants pockets, but they were empty. No, she thought, the night table is where he always puts his phone. She knew his routine: walk in, keys on the microwave, shoes in the front closet, phone on the bedside table. It never varied, even when he was drunk. She thought back to earlier that evening, visualizing him standing behind the bar, leaning back and tapping on the keys of his Blackberry with one thumb. She searched the kitchen, the dining room table, all the various places he might have left his old phone. Nothing. Just the brand-new phone she knew neither of them could afford.

  Miriam shook her head, convinced she must be mistaken. But where was his old phone? He hadn’t left the bar the entire night. There was no way he could have gotten a new phone, especially considering they’d been on the closing shift and all the stores would have been closed hours before. There it was, though, and no rational explanation for it. Glancing at the time, she dismissed it and left his apartment.

  She had a long walk back to her small place above the bar, so it was past four in the morning by the time she made it to the now abandoned parking lot beside the bar, empty except for Miriam’s ancient Volvo. She smiled at the rusted gray sedan, remembering she’d lived in it for a long time after her mom had left. It was old and ugly, and had over two hundred thousand miles on it, but it had been her home and her only possession for more than a year. She didn’t drive it much anymore, since she lived above the bar, but she loved the old car.

  As she let herself into the apartment above the Taproom, she thought back to what had happened at Ben’s place that night. Something odd, something unexplainable, and just a little frightening.

  * * *

  Ben showed up at ten-thirty the next morning, rapping on her screen door. “Miriam! I know you’re awake in there. Lemme in!”

  Miriam stood up from the table where she’d been sipping her coffee and trying to wake up. She stretched, trying to delay letting him in. He’d be pissed that she’d left last night. He never understood why she insisted on going home to her own apartment, no matter what time it was. She didn’t know how to explain it, either, which only frustrated him more. Sex was one thing, but sleeping together? That was totally different. The idea of sleeping next to Ben, vulnerable and unconscious…no way.

  For some reason, she couldn’t seem to find guys who were stable. Any guy she dated seemed nice enough at first, but he invariably turned out to be moody and dangerous. She’d seen a therapist once, and had been told she suffered from severe lack of self-esteem and intense abandonment issues, stemming from her father’s death and her mother’s abandonment. Knowing the psychological reasons for her choices didn’t exactly enable her to change, however.

  When she was awake, she had some kind of control over what happened. Asleep, she was vulnerable and helpless. She’d learned that the hard way. Her ex-boyfriend, Nick, had a psychotic episode one time in the middle of the night when she had stayed over. She had woken up with a hand over her mouth, a kitchen knife to her throat, his eyes wide and crazed. She’d managed to grab hold of the lamp bedside the bed and she’d brained him with it, buying her enough time to scramble out the door and into her car. Since then, she’d never slept over at a boyfriend’s house.

  Nick had been violent and unpredictable. He’d called her names when he got mad, cursed at her, called her a fat slut, a bitch, a whore…all the names he could think of just to hurt her. He’d hidden it well at first, but, as time went on, his true nature finally revealed itself.

  Just like Ben.

  Ben, whose fist pounded on the screen door now, his voice harsh and angry. “Let me in! Come on!”

  She pulled open the door, saying, “Calm down, Ben. I was in the bathroom.” A lie, but it was the easiest way.

  He brushed past her and went straight for the cabinet and grabbed a coffee mug, helping himself. Typical. Never asked, just took what he wanted. “Why do you always leave?” There it was. Every time. “I don’t get it, Miri. I’d really like it if you stayed sometimes.” He sounded like a little boy who hadn’t gotten what he wanted, petulant and whiny.

  “I’ve told you a hundred times—I’m not ready for that. Just let it go, please. I’ll stay over when I’m ready.”

  Ben lit a cigarette, “So you can fuck me, but you can’t sleep with me? That’s messed up.” His fingers tightened on the mug.

  Miriam refilled her coffee, standing with her back to the counter. “Maybe so, but that’s my decision. If you care about me, you’ll respect it.”

  She was tired of this conversation, sick of explaining herself to Ben again and again. She knew this was dangerous ground, but she couldn’t handle the same argument all over again.

  “Respect it? How about you respect me for once, and do what I ask.”

  “If you’re going to be like this, then leave.” Miriam pointed to the door. “I don’t want to argue.”

  “I’
m not trying to argue. I’m just trying to figure your crazy ass out,” Ben said.

  That touched a nerve, and Miriam felt anger welling up inside her, hot and close beneath the surface. “Get out, Ben. Get out now.”

  He narrowed his gaze, set down his coffee mug, stood up. His brown eyes were focused on her, angry and dangerous. He loomed over her, his muscular, six-foot two-inch frame blocking her in. A vein in his forehead throbbed beneath his close-cropped black hair. Miriam clutched the coffee in her hands, ready to throw it at him if he lifted his fist. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “Fuck you, then,” he muttered, and turned on his heel, stomping out and slamming the door so hard it rattled the windows. Tires squealed and his engine roared, and horns honked as he peeled out into traffic. Miriam breathed a sigh of relief and locked the front door. At least he’d been sober this time. She finished her coffee and got ready for work.

  * * *

  The double shift dragged by slowly, and by the time it ended at eleven that night, Miriam was thoroughly exhausted. But she was grateful that Ben was off tonight. She simply didn’t have the energy to fend him off—all she wanted to do was collapse into bed and get a good night’s sleep. She hurried through her side work and left through the back, breathing in the fresh, cool night air after the heat of the bar. She shuffled up to the entrance to her apartment.

  Ben was sitting on the stairs to her place, smoking, his new phone in his hand. “Hey, baby, I know I should have mentioned it this morning, but I just wanted to say thanks for the phone. That was nice gesture,” he said.

  Miriam gave him a quizzical look. “I didn’t give it to you. I thought you’d bought it yourself. I noticed it myself last night. I couldn’t figure out where it came from.”

  Ben glanced at the phone and then at Miriam. “These are brand new, just came out at the beginning of the month. I had my old one when we left work last night. I know I did. I thought you’d left it for me before you went home…or something like that.” He took a drag off his cigarette and shrugged, dismissing the subject. “Anyway, I thought you might wanna come over for a bit,” he said.

  Miriam cursed under her breath. “Look, Ben,” she began, “I really don’t. I’m sorry, I’m exhausted. I’ve been on my feet since eleven this morning, and I barely got any sleep last night. I just want to go to bed.”

  “I’ve been waiting here for you for almost an hour, Miriam. Just come over for a little bit. Please? Just watch a movie with me.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “What the hell does that have to with anything?” He stood up, staggering slightly, slipping his phone in his pocket and tossing the butt of his cigarette to the ground.

  “Well, have you?”

  “A little. Coupla beers.”

  “Then I don’t want to come over. You’re mean when you’ve been drinking.”

  “I’ll be nice, I promise.” He stepped toward her, and she backed away. He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and pulled her to his car. She wanted to jerk free, but there was a couple getting out of their car nearby, and if she resisted, he would pitch a fit, causing a scene. And he’d blame her for that when he finally got her alone, and then he’d take it out on her.

  She got into his truck, making herself as small as she could, sitting close to the door. Rap buzzed from the speakers, the bass cranked loud enough to rumble in her gut. His hand wandered over and clutched her leg, wandered up to her crotch, and fumbled there. She took his hand in hers and moved it lower down. He turned to glance at her, swerving on the road in the process. Shit, Miriam thought, he’s been drinking more than I thought. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.

  “Ben, you shouldn’t be driving.” She tried to ignore her fear and sound calm. “Why don’t you pull over and let me drive? I’ll take us to your place, okay? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. Just let me drive, please?”

  “Shut the fuck up. I’m fine.” Ben blinked, peering sideways at her and then back to the road.

  “You’re drunk, Ben. Just let me drive. Please. I’m begging you.” She touched his forearm and looked at him pleadingly. “Just pull over. Let me drive.”

  He knocked her hand away, and the truck swerved, angling across the centerline and into the oncoming traffic. Horns honked, headlights flashed. “See what you made me do, you stupid bitch? Almost got us killed.”

  “Ben—”

  “Just shut the fuck up, will you?” Ben turned the music up even louder, so loud her ears throbbed. Then he rolled down his window, letting the cold wind blow over them.

  Miriam huddled against the far side of the cab, her seat belt pulled tight, hands gripping the armrest on the door. Finally, after a nerve-wracking twenty minutes, they pulled into the parking lot and Ben swung his truck into his designated spot, threw the door open, and lurched out. Miriam sat in the cab, not wanting to get out.

  “Less’go,” Ben slurred, wavering on his feet.

  Shit, shit, shit, Miriam thought. He was hammered. When she didn’t immediately get out of the truck, he lumbered over to her door and wrenched it open, yanking her out. She fell to the ground, scraping her hand on the grit of the asphalt.

  She straightened and snatched her arm free, shoving Ben away. “Leave me alone, Ben,” she warned, backing away from him as he took another step toward her.

  He grabbed for her, nostrils flaring like a bull’s, eyes rage-blurred and booze-hazed. “Don’ tell me what to fuckin’ do, bitch.” He lunged at her, hard fist cracking against her cheekbone. Stars exploded in her head and she fell backward, slamming into the ground, bruising her tailbone and smacking her head. Ben was standing over her, one hand bunched up in her shirt front, beer breath sour and overwhelming, fist cocked to strike again.

  A lance of heat washed through her gut and set her blood alight. No, not again. She was standing up somehow, pushing Ben away despite his greater strength. She was burning up, her mind an inferno of rage, her skin on fire. She struck Ben in the chest with a flattened palm and he stumbled backward. Her handprint was seared into his skin through his shirt, a blackened palm-shaped brand burned deep in his flesh. He was cursing, pulling at the shirt to keep it away from the open wound, glancing up at Miriam in shock and fear. Before she could register what had just happened, Ben was across the intervening space, his huge fist slamming into her gut. She stumbled backward, gasping for air, eyes watering, hands clutching her belly. Another blow, this one to her side, followed immediately by a third to the same spot. Agony blew through her, leaving her breathless and limp, leaning back against a car door, blinking, trying to breathe, trying to see, unable to even plead for the mercy she knew she wouldn’t get. His fist cracked against her face, knocking her head backward, stars flashing like sunbursts. Another wicked punch to her ribs, and she felt something crack inside her. She braced herself for another blow, slid to the hard grit of the asphalt, stifling whimpers behind clenched teeth.

  The blows stopped abruptly, and she heard a voice, distant and muffled. “Hey! Leave her alone, asshole!”

  Through tear-blurred eyes, Miriam saw a man wearing a motorcycle helmet pulling Ben away, throwing lightning-fast punches to Ben’s torso, followed by a vicious uppercut that left Ben laid out on the asphalt. Miriam clawed at the car, struggled to her feet, blinking to clear the tears of pain.

  Her rescuer rushed over and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders.

  “Come on!” His voice was kind and deep and musical.

  He gently guided her to his motorcycle and helped her on, pulling her arms around his waist. The bike rocketed forward, the back tire stuttering sideways. Miriam clutched at his stomach with frightened fingers, feeling his rock-hard abs through his thin T-shirt. She laid her head against his back, barely breathing through the throbbing pain. Her ribs were broken, she was sure of that, and at least one eye was going to be black within minutes. Her savior twisted the throttle, and the back tire squealed as he guided the motorcycle out of the parking lot and onto th
e main road. Once they were away from Ben, her rescuer slowed down, obviously trying to be considerate of Miriam’s possible injuries. As carefully as he drove, however, the slightest motion of the bike sent spears of agony through her, and Miriam closed her eyes, focused on pushing down the tears of pain and anger.

  He pulled into the empty parking lot of an office building and skidded to a stop, helping Miriam off the bike. She stumbled away from him and leaned back against the lamppost illuminating the parking lot. She doubled over and focused on breathing, trying not to vomit.

  He pulled his helmet off and held it under one arm, brushing hair away from his face with the other hand. “I didn’t know where else to bring you.”

  “It’s fine,” Miriam breathed, not looking up, pain making it hard to talk.

  “Are you okay?” He laughed out loud, a bark of sarcasm. “I guess that’s a stupid question. What I mean is, should I take you to a hospital?”

  Miriam shook her head and straightened. “I’ll be fine.” She hated hospitals. There was nothing they could do to help her anyway.

  “Do you want me to take you home, then?”

  “No! Not home.” Miriam shook her head again, not wanting to be alone in an empty apartment. “Actually, I’m hungry, but I can’t go home yet. He’ll look for me there.”

  She looked at the man who had rescued her, really seeing him for the first time, and she found her breath catching. He was over six feet tall, with angular, attractive features, messy light brown hair and liquid, vivid blue eyes. He wasn’t brawny or muscular like Ben, but toned and wiry, exuding confidence and kindness. He wasn’t physically imposing, tough-looking, or intimidating, but there was still something about him that was intensely masculine and sexy.